#Top Celebrity Wedding Photographers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oneforthemunny · 2 months

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light my morning sky |rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader|

prompt: three wedding ceremonies, and it's stop number two in vegas. a night with your friends, celebrating you the way both of you love, and it leads to a rather intense wedding night for the two of you in sin city.

contains: minors dni. smut. fluff but mainly smut. drugs and alcohol, overall just partying in vegas. getting married in vegas. dom!eddie x sub!reader. bratty overtones to sub!reader. more of a soft!dom with rockstar!eddie bc he's in loooveeeee. spanking with implement (paddle/crop). thigh riding kinda. crawling. pinvsex. language. nothing too harsh or mean bc it's their (second) wedding night lol.

"I now pronounce you married." Elvis, or one of his many replicas on the strip, rasped in his low, exaggerated drawl mimicking the beloved singer. His hair perfectly coiffed, sideburns trimmed, and dressed in a black jumpsuit with wings, red and gold sequins trim.

Flamboyant, over the top- it was Eddie's dream.

Eddie grinned at you, his hands in yours, thumb brushing over the large stone on your left hand. He looked like The King himself in his white tasseled suit, pointed collar, and blue beading down the deep V of his shirt- an identical suit made to look exactly like Elvis' infamous jumpsuit from his time in Las Vegas in the 70's. It had been a prop in some show your father was producing, one that you and Eddie borrowed after the wedding.

"Eddie, you may now kiss your little darlin' here." The officiant grinned, stepping back towards the faux-rose garland, strung with bright lights.

Your heart swelled in your chest, just as light and giddy as the first ceremony, letting Eddie cup your face, pulling you in to seal with a kiss, far more passionate and needy than the ceremony in California.

Cheers erupted from the small crowd of friends you'd rallied for the big day- well, the second big day. Their booze soaked giggles and screeches mashed to the tune of Can't Help Falling In Love pouring out of the static filled old speakers. Flashes blinded your vision, even behind your closed eyes, camera clicks and bright snaps of camera light capturing every moment.

For a moment, you tensed, aware of your rounded shoulders, of Eddie's hand grabbing at your ass, eyes opening and cutting towards the aisle. Jonathan stood there, face hidden by the camera. Eddie had insisted his friend from Hawkins come instead, replace the snooty photographer that had done the ceremony before. Your parents had raved about him, but Eddie didn't see what the big deal was with him. He just made you both look so stiff, so unnatural in your portraits.

Eddie's hand slid up the silk material of your tiny dress, gripped onto your hip, bunching the material. You could feel his wedding band in the small of your back when he pressed his hand there, steadying you before he tipped you back. A deep dip of a kiss, your thigh hiked around his hip.

The small bouquet of white roses you'd bought at the front of the chapel fell onto the patterned carpet, your friends' screeching and whooping laughs ignited by the dramatics. They expected nothing less from Eddie- from both of you.

"Lord have mercy," The officiant laughed, fanning himself dramatically, long metallic sleeves rippling. "These two have lots of hunk-a, hunk-a burnin' love, don't they folks?"

Eddie could feel your lips twitch against his, a snort of a giggle, hot air blowing against his lip. His dopey and dimpled grin met you when you finally pulled apart. It left you weak, blistering in his intense, love filled gaze.

A pop of Perignon filled the room, Gareth and Farrah bumbling closer with two glasses, trying to stop the excess spilling over. A celebratory toast to the two of you, to keep your buzz going after the break in the bender you took for the ceremony.

Since you'd landed on Thursday night, the party hadn't stopped. Liquor flowing, loud music, sloppily piling into a stall with your own friends, taking bumps off your room keys before stumbling back to the club in your designer shoes, ready to keep the party going.

The afterparty was no different. Tucked away in a private villa at Ceasar's, you didn't make it to the club. Eddie had insisted he had to go first, nearly pushing Jeff over to get to the door, scooping you up in his arms and walking you through the door.

"Watch your fuckin' head, baby- don't lean back." You could smell the alcohol on his breath, a pungent mixture of too many to name, mixed with the faintest whiff of smoke from his cigarettes.

It didn't take long for Nick to find the boom box, blaring his party mixtape at a wall shaking volume, everyone scattering. Some to the kitchen to scour through the piles of empty bottles for a full one, others to collapse into the couch and let someone line up a pick me up before plunging in the hot tub outside.

"You," Eddie slurred, his head dipping down to press against your forehead. "Look so fuckin' beautiful." Nose brushing against yours, red from his own party favors.

You giggled nasally, blinking blearily eyed to focus on him to close to you. The effects of the tequila and champagne and hodge podge of liquor you'd mixed and consumed catching up with you.

"You know what, baby? You look really good, Mr. Munson." You whispered, hand cupping his jaw. "Like- hic!- too good to be fucking true."

"You're sweet talkin' me? Huh? Bein' s'nice to me?" Eddie grinned, fingers sinking into your hips.

"Yeah." You hummed.

"Tryna get my pants off or somethin', huh, baby? G-Get in my pants by bein' so sweet? You think that's gonna work?" Eddie teased, tilting his head to the side.

"Yeahhh..." You nodded, staggering against him, manicured nails raking down his bare chest. "We have to- to consummate the marriage, Ed."

"What?" Eddie furrowed his brows. "We gotta do what? Wait- I thought you wanted to fuck."

You laughed, head tilting back letting out that mean little cackle that always got Eddie worked up- a little mocking, mostly genuine. It left him flushed in heat, crawling up his chest and splattering over his cheeks.

"You dumbass, that is what that means." You rolled your eyes at him.

Eddie's eyes narrowed with you, catching your chin easily. "Oh? That's how you wanna play tonight, hm?" He shook his head, your body erupting in a fiery heat. "You're not gonna be nice to me?"

"I'm always nice to you." You countered, hand closing around his wrist gently, steadying yourself. "You're the one who's mean."

"Yeah?" Eddie grinned, eyes shining, glimmering in the low light of the room, the music from the other side thudding in a low roar, still shaking the walls. "You want me to be mean to you tonight? That's how you wanna do this?"

"Yeah." You sighed, a devious little grin that had Eddie's heart swelling, body buzzing with bouts of electricity. A shock to his system that brought him into something animalistic and primal and thrilling. Something new he only felt with you.

"I was hopin' you'd want to. Figured you would. Went ahead and got you a little somethin'." Eddie hummed, pulling you close into him. His breath hot on your cheek, booze soaked and warm on your skin.

"A gift?" Your eyes lit up, bright and devious all at once. Positively troublesome.

"Yeah. A gift. Just for you, baby." Eddie's lip dragged over your cheek, nose, hands sliding up your neck into your hair. "A wedding gift, but-but not for the wedding. For the after."

"Mm," You moaned lightly, his lips brushing with yours, teasing. Just enough to make you want to kiss him fully, leave you waiting and wanting more. "It's after now, Ed." You batted your lashes up at him.

"Is it?" Eddie muttered, fingers curling around your hair the back of your head.

"Yeah." You whispered, voice raspy from the liquor. "Time to give me my gift."

"Ooh, you're gonna be demanding?" Eddie pulled back from you, holding you at arms length so he could see you. Your pout, glassy eyes rounding instinctively- a classic look, teetering on demanding and begging, a signature look for you.

"'M not being demanding." You huffed, hands sliding over his arms. He could feel the diamonds of your wedding band scratch lightly over his skin. "You said you had a gift for me."

Eddie bit back a smirk, squeezing your shoulders with firm, gentle affection. You grinned triumphantly when he stumbled to his closet, puling a red gift bag tied together with a gold bow.

He smirked at your squeal of delight, hands clapping together excitedly when he gave you the bag. "What is it?" You beamed, a peal of excited, drunken giggles spilling from your chest.

"Open it." Eddie clicked, shaking his head at you. "What's in it- open the damn thing, baby. It's a present. 'M not tellin' you w-what I got you." His words slurred, still silly and playful.

You laughed, head spinning and intoxicatingly airy with glee, unraveling the gold spun ribbon with a dramatic tug of your hand. Underneath the piles of tissue paper, a long box lied at the bottom.

There, inside the felt lined box, a small heart shaped paddled. Black and leather, with a black, metal handle. It was small, smaller than most of Eddie's chosen paddles. The heart shape at the end firmer than the crop, not as flimsy as you expected.

"Look," Eddie pointed, swaying gently in front of you. He turned the handle clumsily around his hands before he turned it to you. There in etched gold, your names and the date carved into the metal handle.

"Ed." You cooed, head tilting back to meet his gaze. "You got this f'me?"

"Well, kinda." Eddie nodded. "I mean, for me to use on you, but yeah. Wanted something to-to remember this by."

Lips pulling in a smile, you stood, arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him flush to your own chest. "You're so sweet." You hum, swaying with him softly. "So sweet to me."

Eddie's cheeks flushed, matching the drunken red heat painted on his neck. "Yeah." He hummed, hands sliding over your cheeks, smearing your already rubbed off foundation, tilting your head back towards him.

"'M not gonna be sweet to you f'long." He muttered, lip twitching in a curling grin. Staticky prickles of excitement licked at your neck, shimmering all the way down to your core. Eddie's tongue ran over his teeth, brow raising. "That alright with you, baby?"

"Yes." You whispered, nails digging into his hands lightly, steadying yourself.

Eddie caught your chin, pulling your gaze towards him. "Who?" His tone dropped, low and raspy but punctuated.

The nervous, maybe excited, giggle spilled out of your lips before you could stop it. Eyes shining, swaying with excitement, you batted your lashes towards him. "Yes, Sir." You purred, hands sliding, nails raking down his forearms.

Eddie grinned, ducking down to catch your lips in a hungry kiss. Hand pressed to the small of your spine, you could taste the liquor on his tongue as it slid past your teeth. A sloppy, needy, alcohol fueled make out. Hands grabbing, pulling at the other, pushing your bodies closer and closer together until it felt like they might fuse together, mold into one. Hands sliding, bunching the material of your dress up your hips.

"Wait!" Your eyes flew open, pulling apart with an urgency that had Eddie jumping.

"What? What's wrong?" Eddie's brows furrowed, vision fading blearily in and out of focus.

"I forgot," You turned towards your suitcase. "I bought something special for tonight. S-Somethin' to put on." You muttered, swaying drunkenly, hands on his waist to steady yourself.

"Baby, it's alright. Just save it for tomorrow-"

"-No." Your tone was cutting, huffy with a hint of demanding- bratty. You did it best, Eddie supposed, his cock twitching at the sound.

He wanted to grab the paddle, haul you over his knee right then, feel you scratch and scream at him like old times. Instead, he let you stomp off, bunching a flash of white material to your chest, stumbling towards the bathroom.

It was worth it, Eddie decided. Legs spread on the edge of the bed, knee bouncing with anticipation until the doors opened.

"Are you ready?" He could hear your grin, hidden by the door.

"Yeah. Show me, baby. Come on out." Eddie's lips tugged in a half grin.

The door opened painfully slow, your own teasing reveal, until you stood before him in a tiny, white, see through lacy lingerie set. A classic, more scandalous and revealing than before. Bra and panties so revealing it left little to the imagination, hip hugging garter that connected to two leg holders, both with their own loops. Eddie pictured for a moment tying you up by them, stringing the rope through them, tying your legs wide open and spending the rest of the night- hell, the whole week in between them.

Maybe tomorrow night. Tonight, he had other plans.

Eddie's loud wolf whistle mixed with your bubbling giggles. "Holy shit, baby, look at you. No, look at me, but I wanna look at you." Eddie rasped, hands sliding over your exposed skin, rubbing the lace of your garter, pulling the tiny strap of your panties so it snapped to your skin.

"You like it?" You whispered, watching his eyes carefully. You knew he did. He always did.

"You kidding? Love it." Eddie grinned. "Worth the wait, beautiful."

Your cheeks burned with a rush of euphoric excitement, hands sliding up his shoulder, your ring sparkling even under the dim lights of the room.

"Ok, I'm ready now." You said boldly, lashes batting up to Eddie sweetly. "I just wanted to put this on for you."

"Oh? You're ready?" Eddie snorted lightly, lips curling in a smirk. "You callin' the shots?"

You huffed, an eye roll that had Eddie swallowing hard, trying to ignore the throbbing of his cock. "No," Your tongue clicked sarcastically. "Obviously you're in charge for right now."

"Oh, it's like that?" Eddie scoffed. "You're gonna act like that?"

"I'm not acting like anything, Ed." You bit your lip playfully. "I don't know what you're talking about." Oh, you were playful tonight. Eddie's heart swelled, palms twitching with excitement.

"Hm," Eddie hummed, tongue running down the inside of his cheek.

"Why don't you go get your gift." Eddie nodded towards the discarded paddle at the other end of the bed. You stepped towards it. "Nuh-uh-uh." Eddie clicked, head shaking.

"You know how you're supposed to get things for me." His eyes darkened, narrowing towards you.

Your thighs twitched, aching between them with a familiar heat. "Ed," Whiny and nasally, shoulders slumping for effect.

"You're gonna whine? C'mon, I know you know better." Eddie shook his head. "I don't wanna be mean to you tonight. Not too mean, anyways. Don't make me be mean. Go get your gift and bring it here, you know what to do. You be good for me, and I'll be good to you."

It didn't take much convincing, not when your head was spinning the way it was, desperate to please him. You knew he was true to his word, that he'd make you feel so good, which was exactly why you sunk to your knees. Crawling across the carpeted floors, you crept slowly towards the paddle.

Eddie watched through heavy lids, the sway of your hips, tiny panties riding up into your ass with every crawl. Your eyes met his when you raised up, gently grabbing the paddle off the bed. Eddie's heart lurched with excitement when you slipped it between your teeth, sinking back to your knees.

"Holy shit... Baby," Eddie groaned, leg shaking furiously when you rounded the corner of the bed, crawling straight for him. "Look at you. Jesus Christ, you know what you're doin'?"

You sunk back on your knees, settling between Eddie's open legs, eyes rounded so sweetly up at him it answered his question- you knew exactly what you were doing to him.

"'M just trying to be good." You whispered sweetly, head tilting to the side when he took to the paddle from you. "I just want to be so good for you always and forever, Mr. Munson."

Eddie thought he might snap the paddle in half, grip strangling in a tight hold around the pole. For a second, he contemplated again diving right between your legs, kinky foreplay be damned. Instead, he pulled you over his knee, let you straddle his thigh, covered cunt hot on his knee.

"Look at me." Eddie rasped, pulling your chin up, letting it rest on his chest, your body folded over his. "I wanna look at you. Wanna see you the whole time."

You pressed your lips together, swallowing back a pathetic whine. One hand cradling the back of your head, the other dragging the paddle along your exposed cheeks.

"You wanna be good for me?" Eddie whispered. You didn't reply, didn't get the chance to before the paddle snapped onto your ass. A jump, a whine, followed by Eddie's coaxing whisper back onto his knee.

"I asked you somethin', sweetheart." Eddie muttered, the crop tapping your other cheek. "You wanna be good for me?" Two sharp hits one to each cheek had you hissing.

"Yes." You hissed through gritted teeth, stilling your hips not to grind on him, hump his leg mercilessly. You knew that'd just fuel his cruel teasing even more.

"Yeah?" You yelped at the sharp sting.

"Yes, I wanna be good for you." Your spine ached at the uncomfortable bend in position, still you didn't dare move. It was true, you did want to be good for him.

"Are you going to be good for me?" Eddie whispered, nose nearly touching yours.

You bit back a giggle, stopped by three more sharp spanks of the crop to your ass, already itchy with growing agitation. "Yeah." Your eyes shone up at Eddie's, a silly, love sick grin that had him swooning.

"Yeah?" Eddie mocked back with a light snort. It was growing harder to keep the mean, domineering persona he tried to. When you were being this sweet, when you were being so good for him.

The crop fell again, this time your hips did roll. Just enough to dull the ache between your legs, a momentary release that had you melting further into his chest.

Eddie didn't miss it, pulling you closer to him, readjusting you on his thigh. "I don't know if I believe you." Eddie hummed, cracking the crop down again in short, sharp successions. "Are you really gonna be good to me? For the rest of time?"

You whimpered, hips rocking slowly, a steady rhythm that nearly had your eyes rolling back. The burning stretch of your ass mixed with the slow, pleasure-filled rolls of your hips.

"I will, I promise." You hummed in a high, breathy tone. "I swear I will be. I'll be a good wife for you. Forever and ever and ever."

Eddie's heart nearly burst at the words. How sweet they still sounded, even if you had technically been his wife for a few weeks now.

He let the paddle fall, his hands grabbing at your waist, pulling you into his lap. Lips on yours, your legs wrapping around his hips before he rolled the two of you, body slotting over yours, drunken giggles filling the air.

Hand intertwining with the other, Eddie's eyes rolled back at the feeling of your ring scraping over his when he finally slid into you. Mrs. Munson, forever. Forever his, just as he was forever yours.

Eddie had you pressed against the window of the suite, hips rutting into the fat of your ass, marked with the etching heart shape of the paddle. Overlooking the city's skyline, the sun was just beginning to peak over the horizon. Your cheek pressed to the window, Eddie's pressed to yours, skin smushed to skin, the two of you weren't close to being done. Just getting started, started on forever, started on a life together.

For now, in a hotel room in Vegas, insatiably happy and in love with one another. Mr. and Mrs. Munson, for the second time.

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vivwritescrappythings · 3 months

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Unfair

no outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

an au about Joel attending a wedding simply inspired by Pedro's slutty little fit at the SAG awards.

part 2

tw: age gap (late 20s/late 40s), fingering, oral (f receiving), p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, dirty talk, alcohol, she/her pronouns, reader has hair long enough to twist around her finger, Joel is probably poorly written in this, and this whole thing is a little poorly written.

word count: 7.2k

MDNI

masterlist

–

Your mom was smiling as you zipped her into her gown, the chiffon and lace dress gorgeous on her as you fastened the eyelet closed at the top of the bodice. You could feel the lens of the photographer’s camera trained on you both, the woman having been with you the entire morning to document the process of the bridal party getting ready.

The photographer was fluttering around the room, taking candid photos of you all making small talk and toasting mimosas. The posed photos had been earlier that morning, you all wearing your matching silk robes with your names screen-printed on the back. You didn’t know how much had been spent on the whole production–but it certainly wasn’t cheap. But, to see your mom glowing and her wide smile all morning, every penny must have been more than worth it.

Before you realized, you all wore dresses and bouquets of white flowers with magnificent greenery were being thrust in your hands. The wedding planner was ushering everyone out onto the stone walkway to the barn, women finally meeting men just outside the farmhouse turned wedding venue. The best man looked vaguely familiar to you as you placed your hand in the crook of his elbow to walk down the aisle, he must have been Shawn's eldest brother.

The officiant droned: he just repeated the same platitudes of what it means to love one another and be good spouses. You tried to stay focused, your eyes inevitably wandering. The ceremony space was picturesque: southern live oaks casting shadows in the late autumn sun as they married in front of the barn. It really couldn’t get more Texas than that, especially when you counted the number of cowboy hats in the crowd.

You could feel someone staring at you for the better part of the ceremony, making you glance out of the corner of your eye as you tried to find the source. Every fiber of you wanted to turn and look in earnest, but you knew that you’d ruin the photos as soon as your body twisted and your happy, grinning face wasn’t facing the bride and groom on the best day of their lives.

Your grip tightened around the bouquet in your hands as your skin crawled, your focus so jarred that you almost missed your cue to walk out. The cheers and clapping woke you from your reverie before the best man had to. Grasping him by the elbow, you walked back up the aisle between the celebrating wedding guests, the feeling of being watched now fading to the background.

—

When you finally made it to the renovated barn, you were starving and in desperate need of a drink. The photos had run long, the photographers getting you all in a variety of line ups and poses. It was almost time for the plated dinner to begin, guests settling at assigned tables after a cocktail hour and the live band playing quiet music in the corner of the half-inside half-outside space that would eventually serve as the dance floor.

The orange lighting from string lights along the ceiling was soft, mismatched Edison bulbs hanging along zigzagged wires from wooden rafters. It painted the guests and decor in gold tones, making everything look sepia like an old photo.

With your double shot vodka tonic in hand, you found your name written in gold calligraphy on the seating chart. Your mom and her new husband were sitting together at a small table at the front of the room, a faux-neon sign behind them that displayed his last name. Well, their last name now.

You were at one of the front tables, the ivory table cloth nearly brushing the shiny wooden floor as you plucked your name card off your plate and sat down. There were only a few people you knew at the wedding, neighbors from the neighborhood you grew up in and a handful of your mother’s coworkers. But, they were seated elsewhere.

Some of the seats on the opposite side of the sprawling white and green centerpiece were occupied with strangers in flamboyant cowboy hats and boots, an obvious sign they were from out of town. You smiled politely as you sat down, taking a long sip of your drink as you checked your phone for the moment of downtime.

“This seat taken?” A deep, twangy voice made your gaze cut away from the screen and up to the right. You were immediately dumbstruck by how handsome the man was, his umber colored eyes reminding you of the sunlight hitting the tree trunks during the ceremony. A few of his dark brown curls were falling on his tanned forehead, the rest of his hair loosely pushed back.

You floundered for a moment, lips parting and no words coming out of your mouth. Finally you caught up, blinking a few times. The place card in front of the ornate gold and white place setting next to yours was your saving grace. “Well, uh, if you’re Joel M., the seat is all yours,” you said, looking back up at him.

God, you hoped he was Joel.

He smiled, the lines on his face becoming a bit more defined as he extended a hand toward you. “Joel Miller, nice to meet you…” he trailed off, waiting for your assistance.

You slipped your hand into his, his calloused palm engulfing yours as he shook it politely. You introduced yourself, neck craned back so you could look him in the eye. He released your hand and sat down, setting the glass he was holding next to yours on the table cloth.

“So how do you know the couple?” Joel asked you, his gaze dragging over you. You tried not to squirm under the weight of it, your face feeling hot as you set your phone face-down on the table. The way he looked at you made you feel like a bug caught under a microscope.

“The bride is my mom,” you said, fiddling with the elegantly folded cloth napkins for a moment. You glanced at her briefly, watching her giggle at something Shawn had said.

Joel nodded, a huff of a laugh following. “No shit, so you’re the stepdaughter?” he asked, an eyebrow raised as a smirk lifted the corner of his lip. One of your eyebrows lifted of its own volition, his reaction catching you off guard.

“Do I have a reputation?” A sip of your drink helped wet your dry tongue, your eyes trained on him over the rim of your glass. There was a spike of anxiety in your chest, the temporary fear that he’d heard something bad about you filling your mind. You held your glass in your hand as you crossed your legs at the ankle, waiting for his response.

Joel paused to take a drink, a hand scrubbing over his beard as he looked back at you. He shook his head, waving a hand in a way that was meant to be placating. “Shawn told me about you, said you just moved back to town a few months ago.”

“Um, yeah, actually. Moved back from Denver,” you said, bashful that the subject of you even came up. You hadn’t realized that you were important enough in Shawn’s life to mention, especially to his friends. Of course, there wasn’t animosity between the two of you, just what you assumed was limited interest. Most men didn't bother to learn too much about their adult stepchildren.

You were both leaning forward as you spoke, the music and chatter of the other guests making the barn a little too loud to hear one another clearly at a distance. He was looking down at his drink, giving you an opportunity to study his profile. Joel was easily twenty years your senior, the dark beard on his jawline threaded through with patches of silver hair.

“So—“ Joel started, getting cut off by the shuffle of the last people to their seats and an arm thrust between the two of you. The waiters serving the plated dinner made you sit upright in your chair, the soft fabric of your dress fluttering as you put some space between Joel and yourself.

You didn’t realize how hungry you were until you took the first bite of your food, a sigh escaping you as your eyelashes batted against your cheeks. Conversation floated around your head, you caught polite questions about Joel’s construction business and half-assed replies.

For some reason your mother had put you at a table full of Shawn’s friends, maybe in an attempt to help you get to know him better.

“So you’re a contractor?” you asked after your hunger had been satiated. You’d gotten a refill on your drink from one of the waiters, nursing a fresh vodka tonic as you looked at Joel.

He chewed his steak methodically, nodding as he turned slightly to look at you. “Been building houses for years, my brother, Tommy, works with me,” Joel said after he swallowed, taking his cloth napkin off his wide thigh to wipe the corner of his mouth.

“Do you like it?” you asked after a moment of contemplation, tilting your head to one side as you looked at him.

There was something about him that kept you smiling, your lips curved like a bow as you sipped your drink from the straw. You studied his features while you could, his aquiline nose and his full lower lip intriguing. Way too intriguing for someone who was your stepfather’s friend.

“Pays the bills, keeps the roof over me and Sarah’s heads.” Joel finished his plate, picking up his drink and leaning back in his seat.

Sarah? Your eyes dropped to his left hand, not seeing a ring on any of the fingers. Not even a tan line. He noticed it, making your face burn as he chuckled. “Sarah? Your…”

“Daughter,” he cut in helpfully. Daughter, he had a daughter. You exhaled, relieved. But, did he have a wife? No ring, never mentioned her. He would’ve brought her up by now. She would've attended the wedding with him. You chewed the inside of your cheek for a moment, taking a breath as you rationalized.

Your mouth opened to ask another question when glasses were chimed and dinner was cleared away. Champagne flutes were passed around, and to your horror you realized it was time for your toast. You stood in a fluid motion, adjusting your gown and your hair before heading toward the microphone next to the table with the bride and groom.

–

You spent the rest of the night getting drunk. Champagne became cocktails and cocktails became shots–all with your mother and new stepfather and family and friends from your childhood. Tipsiness made you remove your heels, kicking them off to the side to a forgotten corner as your aching feet pressed against the polished floor.

The dance floor was cramped, the band having transitioned partway through the night to someone’s phone with a playlist hooked up to the speakers. You watched your mom laugh as she was spun around by her new husband, making you smile as you nursed your glass of wine.

“You lost something.” Joel approached, pointing to your strappy heels with a lazy finger.

You grinned, your teeth digging into your lower lip for a moment as you looked up at him. “Looks like you did, too–a few things actually,” you said, nodding toward his shucked suit jacket and tie. The top few buttons of his white shirt were open, revealing just enough of his tanned chest to feel dangerous. He was more disheveled than before, a chilled beer bottle held loosely in his fingers and his cheeks flushed.

Joel chuckled, taking a step closer to you as he took a long drink from his beer. You watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed, taking a sip of your red wine in tandem.

There was something about this man that had you all kinds of flustered, a giddy lightness in your chest when he focused his attention on you. “So why aren’t you out there dancing?” Joel asked, his warm eyes surveying the dance floor before returning.

You shook your head, a demure smile and a shrug. “Never was much of a dancer.” The last time you really danced was wasted at a frat party in college, the lights low and the music making the house shake. Far from a respectable barn wedding, and definitely not your mother’s respectable barn wedding.

“That’s a shame,” Joel smiled at you, pressing just a bit closer, “a pretty girl like you should be out there.”

You were surprised by the compliment, nearly choking on your wine as your eyebrows lifted. Joel was smirking, his whole body leaning toward yours. You were warm to the touch, your entire face burning under his attentions. It felt like you were in high school again, pining after some older boy that you assumed would never look at you twice–but here he was, looking.

“Do you always flirt with your friend’s stepdaughters?” you asked, hoping to come off as hard to get. Realistically, he already had you in the palm of his hand.

Joel pursed his lips, something mischievous flashing in his dark eyes for a moment. “Just the ones that look like you,” he said, his deep voice low. It was almost too quiet to hear over the music, making you shift forward so you could hear him better.

“Joel.” It would've been chastising if it wasn’t for your bright smile. He exuded an easy confidence that was magnetic, it had your nerves on fire as you selfishly hoped that he would do more than just flirt with you. Your gaze was on his lips for a moment, taking in the lines of his full bottom lip and tidy mustache before meeting his eyes again.

“The couple is getting ready to leave!” You both looked toward the door and watched the wedding planner usher guests out the barn doors. Sparklers were thrust in everyone’s hands, the photographer already positioned at the end of the walkway near the rented white Rolls Royce.

Joel’s hand found the small of your back, warm through the thin fabric of your dress as he guided you toward the door. The wedding planner handed him two sparklers, the long kind that wobbled under their own weight.

The guests had divided into two lines, waiters lighting sparklers on either side of the column created. Joel handed you one as you stood at his side, your bare feet on the warm concrete. You held it out from your body, focused on the bright sizzle of the sparks as they made their way down the lines of powder.

Your mother and Shawn walked through the column of sparklers on cue, laughing and smiling while holding hands. They looked so happy. You could hardly imagine being that happy with someone.

She broke off for a moment to embrace you, making Joel thoughtfully pluck the sparkler out of your fingers so you didn’t burn her.

Tears pushed at your eyelids, overwhelming joy for your mother finally breaking free of your chest. You whispered ‘I love you’s into one another’s ears and pressed kisses to cheeks as you clung to each other. The photographer’s camera was shuttering nearby, catching every intimate moment.

Finally you let her go, tearful and smiling as Shawn pulled her toward the car that would take them to their hotel. Joel’s large hand found the curve of your waist, bringing you to his side as you watched your mother get into the car.

You were tipsy enough to allow it.

He was warm, smelling like cigar smoke and whiskey and cologne. You both were quiet as you watched the car pull away, your shoulders fitting in the space between his arm and torso.

“You wanna help me find my jacket? Think I left it around back when I was smoking a cigar with Shawn,” Joel murmured into your hair. His fingers pressed into your waist, his breath on your neck.

It was enough to distract you. You blinked your tears away, fingertips brushing at the corners of your eyes to make sure your makeup was still intact. “Sure,” you whispered, looking up at him after you’d composed yourself.

Your heart skipped a beat when Joel took your hand, tugging you along with him down the path on the outside of the barn. Both of you were tipsy, giggling and stumbling a bit over the paving stones that had been set in the tall grass. The lights faded behind you, the dim glow through the high windows of the barn and the solitary strand of Edison bulbs between the trees just enough to navigate by.

It all happened so fast, you didn’t even know who initiated it. Joel’s calloused hands were cupping your cheeks and jaw, tilting your head up as your lips met his. He tasted like whiskey and the sweet wedding cake, making you sigh into the kiss as your fingers twisted in his shirt and pulled him close.

You had to stand on your tip toes to kiss him properly, a few soft laughs escaping the both of you when the hard cartilage of your noses bumped and teeth clashed.

He took steps forward until your shoulder blades pressed against the side of the barn. Joel crowded you in, one hand leaving your cheek to brace against the wood behind your waist as he swiped his tongue along your bottom lip. You could feel him smiling.

You always found French kissing to be weird, never knowing quite what to do with your tongue. Whenever a guy had initiated it you managed to cut it off quickly, moving on to some other method of making out to spare yourself the embarrassment of letting your tongue sit there like a dead fish.

Of course you’d seen people do it, always seeming like a lot more licking each other than kissing. Nevertheless, the second time Joel ran his tongue along the seam of your lips you found yourself parting them for him.

Suddenly, you understood. Joel’s tongue massaged over yours as he groaned softly. You wanted him to consume you, letting him take control as he explored your mouth. He tilted your head back more, leaning over you with his full height. You flicked your tongue along his, spine arching toward him in an attempt to get closer.

The horn of the hotel shuttle startled you as you broke apart, chests heaving and your lipstick smeared onto Joel’s mouth.

“You staying at the same hotel as everyone else?” Joel asked, nosing at your hairline as his hands roamed over your dress. He bunched it in his fists, raising the hem above your calves and wrinkling the fabric.

“I am,” you breathed, twisting your fingers in his thick curls.

Joel smiled against your earlobe, nipping at it. “Wanna continue this in my room? Got a king size bed and everything,” he drawled, pulling back to look down at you. There was a sparkle in his eyes, his smile was breathtaking.

You wiped your lipstick off his bottom lip with your thumb, suddenly feeling a bit shy. “You sure?” you asked, folding your arms over your chest in a form of protection from Joel’s possible rejection.

He offered, but there was still a part of you that was worried.

He furrowed his brow, a smile still on his face as he looked down at you in the dark. “'Course I’m sure. Go get your shoes, baby, and I’ll see you on the shuttle.” Joel spun you toward the nearest door to the barn, lightly smacking your ass go get you moving.

You yelped, swatting at his hand with a glare.

“Go on, before I ruin that pretty dress of yours in the dirt out here,” he told you, a smirk on his face as he nodded his chin toward the door. You rolled your eyes, acquiescing to his instructions.

—

It took Joel no time to get you down the hall from the packed elevator and to his room. He clumsily tapped his keycard against the sensor, stamping kisses along the side of your neck as you giggled in the cage of his arms.

Finally he got it to unlock, tightening an arm around your waist as he pushed the door open. Joel took wide, staggered steps on either side of your body as he ushered you inside.

As soon as the door snapped shut he was already lifting the bottom of your dress, kisses turning into bites on the curve of your neck. “Jo-el,” you whined through giggles as you grabbed the forearm he’d locked around your waist.

“Unfair that you’re this fucking pretty,” he mumbled, making your face heat up as you tried to protest. Joel shushed you by grabbing a handful of the meat of your thigh, groaning in your ear.

“How’s it unfair?” you managed to ask, your head spinning from the overwhelming presence of Joel. His rough, calloused hands were groping at your soft flesh, his lips sucking marks on your neck like you were teenagers.

The room was relatively untouched, his open suitcase on the stand near the large windows on the far side of the room. The curtains were slightly open, moonlight filtering in. “S’unfair that I didn’t meet you sooner,” Joel said, scraping his blunt teeth over the sensitive spot just under your earlobe. You shivered in his arms.

He separated from you just enough to shuck his suit jacket that he had haphazardly put on for the shuttle, tossing it on the little sofa in the room. You turned after stepping out of your heels, linking your hands behind Joel’s neck and pulling him in for another kiss.

Joel smiled into it, his hands grabbing your waist and holding you flush against his body. “You still wanna do this?” His fingers moved to your spine and played with the zipper on the back of your dress, looking down at you as he waited for your answer. "Don't want you to feel pressured or anything."

“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be,” you murmured, carding your fingers in his thick curls.

Joel just groaned, pressing you flush against him as he captured you in another needy kiss. He pulled the zipper of your dress down in one fluid motion, making a shiver prickle up the length of your spine.

“Let me see ya, baby,” he said against your mouth, pulling the thick straps of your dress down your arms.

You let the fabric pool at your feet, your sheer, skin-colored bra and panties leaving little to the imagination. A wave of insecurity flashed over you, your skin suddenly feeling stretched too tight over your body as your face and neck heated up.

You were too aware of the parts of yourself that you didn’t like: the dimpled flesh on the outside of your thighs and the hairs you hadn’t plucked away because the wedding was the last place you thought you’d find a one night stand. A wobbly smile formed, your instinct making you bury your face in Joel’s neck to hide.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled, his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear his praise. His massive hands ran down your sides, thumbing at the mesh of your bra and panties before he started moving you backwards.

Your calves hit the bed, making you squawk in an unflattering way as Joel lowered you to the mattress. “You’re so gorgeous,” he breathed, his lips trailing down your neck until he was kissing and sucking at your sternum. He nudged your knees apart with his free hand, his other forearm planted on the mattress to hold his weight off of you. He slotted himself in the space between your thighs as his tongue laved over your nipple through the mesh fabric of your bra.

The noise that came out of your throat was embarrassing. Your breath turned into a strangled moan, eyebrows pinching together. The sensation only made your arousal increase tenfold, spine already arching to press your tit against his mouth.

Joel chuckled, soft brown eyes ticking up to look at your face. “That sensitive?” he said, more of a statement than a question. You found yourself nodding anyway. He thumbed at your other nipple, making it bud against the thin fabric and pulling another whine from your throat. He snickered.

“Don’t tease,” you huffed, wiggling your hips and lightly squeezing his sides with your knees.

“Don’t worry, baby,” Joel muttered, a smile stretching on his lips as he rolled the pad of his thumb over your nipple again. He placed kisses along your stomach, making you suck in the soft flesh on reflex. His coarse facial hair tickled your skin, making you giggle a bit as he continued to work his way down your form.

“Just wanna taste ya, okay?” Joel asked, his broad shoulders between your spread thighs. His thick fingers hooked into your panties, manipulating your legs so he could pull them off and toss them somewhere in the room. He pressed your legs apart before you could snap them shut, a seed of worry taking root in your mind as you looked down at him.

You’d never been so self-conscious during a hook-up before, but for some reason Joel felt different. Your thoughts were preoccupied on how you looked from his vantage point, if you smelled alright and if anything looked weird.

“Been wanting to taste you all night, ever since I saw you standing up there during that damn ceremony.”

He spread you apart with his thumbs, eyes focused on your already wet pussy as a smirk stretched across his features. He just stared, making you want to crawl back into yourself. Then the feeling of his tongue on your clit makes you forget your worries, your face scrunching as you moaned. Joel hooked your leg over his shoulder, your heel pressing against his back as he pushed your thighs even further apart.

You couldn’t remember a time when you’d been so soaked before, sticky arousal practically gushing out of you. Joel’s wide tongue licked long stripes up your cunt, careful to practically gulp down everything that he could. He was groaning as he ate you out, his big hands digging into your waist to pull you closer. The coarse hair of his beard was rough against the soft skin of your inner thighs

“Oh–oh god, Joel,” you sighed, propping yourself up on an elbow so you could look at him.

Your thighs were quaking, pressing against his ears as your hips twitched. Joel’s dark eyes were hazy and half lidded as he lapped over your clit, working with a focus you’d never experienced with any other man. He looked beautiful between your legs, belly-down on the mattress and still dressed in his button down shirt and slacks.

One of his hands left your hip, snaking up your stomach to reach blindly until he cupped your breast. He pulled at the cup of your bra, revealing your peaked nipple. The bud was immediately pinched between his thumb and forefinger, making you arch your back as you let out another whine of his name.

Joel dipped down to shove his searing tongue inside of you as his nose bumped into the swollen bead of your clit. A bolt of lightning ricocheted up your spine, a gasp leaving you. It felt so good you could almost cry, your chest heaving and hips clumsily grinding toward his mouth. You were already starting to tremble, pleasure sparking in the pit of your stomach as he mouthed at you.

And then he pulled back.

“Joel!” you yelped, starting to sit up as your gaze hardened into a glare. Your pussy clenched around nothing, neglected and empty with an interrupted orgasm.

He huffed a laugh, looking down at you as he knelt on the bed in front of you. “You’re right, baby, that’s my name,” he teased, his voice deep and smokey.

He grabbed you roughly by the hips, pulling so you fell to your back again. “You fucker–” Joel cut you off by pressing the backs of your knees until you were bent in half, a brief show of just how strong he was. His calloused hands gripped the soft flesh of your ass, readjusting you again so the small of your back was propped up against his quads. You’d never been in this angle before, your pussy the highest point of your body as he pushed his forearms against your thighs to keep you still.

Joel’s hot breath washed over your cunt before he delved back into it, greedy as he started sucking on your clit. With the way you were contorted, you were completely helpless, any attempt to move your hips just made your thighs push uselessly against his arms. You were soaking, your arousal dripping down to your asshole as you whimpered pathetically.

He went at a leisurely pace, taking his time to tongue at you and lick long stripes from your perineum to your clit. Your hands were clenching in the white comforter on the hotel bed, your chest heaving. There was something about being completely at his mercy that made your head spin.

You wanted to be greedy, take everything he would give you; but, Joel was in no rush, languidly pressing his face into your pussy despite your best efforts to get him to speed up.

It was overwhelming in all the right ways, your head spinning as you watched Joel lick at you like he wanted to consume every part of you. Joel cupped your breast in a hand, strumming his thumb lightly over your nipple to keep it stimulated as you gasped.

You were delirious by the time he sunk two fingers into you, almost making you scream. Joel took a few breaths, his pink lips swollen and shiny with your arousal as he studied your expression. You could hardly think straight, strings of curses mixed with his name falling from your lips as you panted like a bitch in heat.

The squelching sound of his fingers lazily pumping into your pussy filled the hotel room, loud enough to make your cheeks burn. You wetted your lips, trying to catch your breath beneath Joel.

“So fucking tight around my fingers,” Joel mumbled, the words muffled and wet because he didn’t pull away. It didn’t even feel like he was talking to you, communing with your pussy instead. The praise went directly to your head, making you tighten around his fingers. You threaded a hand in his hair, keeping his mouth pressed against you. “Tastes just as good as I expected.”

“Oh… oh my god,” you breathed, your climax building toward its precipice.

Joel wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, just barely speeding up the rhythm of his fingers fucking into you. His thumb on your nipple followed suit, matching the motion as tears filled your eyes. Your fingers threaded into his curls, your brows furrowed as you pulled on his hair. He grunted against you, not letting up as he worked you up toward the edge.

When you came it was a whole body event. Your legs trembled, hips burning from the awkward angle Joel had bent you into. Your back arched, breath pausing in your chest. Your cunt clenched around his fingers, sucked tight and feeling every inch of them inside you. The pleasure was white-hot as it coursed through you, leaving your nerves buzzing and your ears ringing as your body went limp.

“So pretty when you come,” Joel said, his thick fingers still deep inside you.

You were almost nonverbal, your response a delirious sob as you looked up at Joel with watery eyes. He caressed your cheek, gently stroking your jaw and thumb wiping over your lower lip. You kissed the pad of it out of reflex, the motion making his expression soften for a moment.

Then he started to massage the spongy spot inside of your dripping pussy, making your eyes roll back. “Too sensitive,” you whined, grabbing onto his forearm in a weak attempt to stop him.

“Trust me, baby, I’ve got you,” he said in that syrupy tone, gaze still locked on your face as you squirmed. He took his hand away from your cheek, holding one of your legs to keep you still as he fucked his fingers into you. “You can do one more for me, right?”

The need to please him made you nod, taking in a deep and shaky breath. You couldn’t do anything but take it, your mouth dropping open and your back arching. The overstimulation made you tremble, your whole body squirming. Breaths kept huffing out of you, your brows pinched tight as you tried to relax. It was hard to think straight, hell, it was hard to even breathe.

Joel pulled his fingers out of you for a moment to strum over your swollen clit, only touching you with just enough pressure to drive you crazy. He continued until you were straining against him, moaning and sobbing his name. It was like he was carved from stone, hardly giving you any leeway as he kept you in place. The pressure in you built faster this time, it was almost embarrassing how quick he was able to get you to the edge.

“Joel, Joel, Joel–ohmygod,” you gasped, reaching for purchase against his thigh. His dress pants were soft under your fingers as you squeezed, your body practically vibrating.

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmured soothingly, pressing a wet kiss to the back of your thigh as his fingers hooked back into you.

Joel fucked you on them at a ruthless pace as his thumb rolled over the crest of your sex, your mouth opening in a wordless cry as you fell into your second orgasm of the night. You were completely lost, your eyes squeezed shut as your muscles spasmed against the restraint of Joel’s arms. White noise filled your mind, your body melting against Joel’s thighs and the bed as your legs fell open even further.

He rubbed along the seam of your cunt soothingly, calloused fingers working you through the aftershocks. Your eyes were completely hazed when you looked up at him, splayed on the bed like every bone had been pulled from your body. He looked positively giddy, his wet fingers smearing on your thigh as he rubbed your legs in an effort to help you come back to yourself.

Joel let you off of him, returning your spine to the mattress as he leaned over you to give you a kiss. You hummed into it, smelling and tasting your salty-sweet slick on his lips and facial hair. “Please fuck me,” you begged between presses of his mouth, desperation easy to hear in your tone.

“‘Course I will, baby,” he said, getting off the bed to quickly undress himself. You shakily sat up, unclipping your bra at your back and tossing it aside.

Joel was impressive, his body rippled with muscles beneath a layer of fat that told you he was eating well. Your gaze dragged down him, mouth watering as you finally saw his cock. It was big, the same tanned tone of his skin with a flushed tip. It jutted from a patch of trimmed, dark hair that was accentuated by the happy trail beneath his navel. You swallowed thickly, pussy clenching at the thought of him fucking you into the mattress.

You kissed him eagerly as he got back on the bed, part of you so desperate to please him. Joel was older than you, so much more experienced, you just wanted him to like you.

He grunted, curling a hand around the back of your neck to keep you close. His other hand traveled down your body, massaging your hip with his thumb. You were putty in his hands, your own arms in a loop around his neck.

“Lay down,” Joel mumbled against the hinge of your jaw, nipping at the bone. You whimpered, fingers digging into the broad muscle of his shoulders as you complied. Joel ran a hand over you, sliding it down the valley between your breasts and over your soft stomach.

The backs of your thighs were pressed against his quads as he took himself in his hand, sliding the blunt head of his cock along your pussy. You clenched around nothing, desperate and wanting. “Joel, please.”

You couldn’t take waiting anymore.

He smirked, notching himself at your entrance and obliging you. Joel pressed and pressed and pressed until his hips were completely snug against yours. He split you in half across the width of his cock, moving slow to give you some time to adjust. It felt like he’d consumed all of the extra space in your body, you even felt him in your throat.

You breathed brokenly, back arched and hips twitching as you struggled to find a comfortable position. You weren’t a virgin–weren’t anything close to it, really–but it felt just as overwhelming as your first time.

Joel bent over you, his elbows on either side of your head carrying his weight as he ground his hips against yours. His forehead pressed into your shoulder, a heated groan rumbling from his chest. It was hard to make sense of things, rattled breaths filling your chest as your mind whirred uselessly. He peppered kisses over your face, his lips wet and warm as he showered you in affection.

Then he moved his hips, the roll of them slow and syrupy and making you nearly choke. You grabbed at his biceps, an attempt to anchor yourself to him as he started to rut his hips into yours. He made room for himself with every press of his cock, molding you to the shape of him.

Joel collected your leg with a rough hand, pushing your knee toward your chest. He let it come to rest in the curve of his elbow, palm pressed flat to the comforter as he spread you open wider. Your hips protested as he splayed you apart, the discomfort easily taking a backseat to your pleasure.

You keened, mouth falling open as he sank even deeper inside of you. Your breaths came out in little mewls, matching Joel’s grunts as you met each thrust with a weak roll of your hips. His lips were at your throat, sucking more marks into the skin and his facial hair scratching against you. “Goddamn, you’re gonna be the death of me, baby,” Joel groaned into the curve of your neck, still keeping an even rhythm

You let out a breathy laugh–you felt the same way about him. He lifted himself to get a better look at you, dark brown eyes as warm as the summer sun as his gaze drifted all the way down to where his cock was buried in you. He grunted at the sight, pupils dilating like drops of ink in water.

His free hand lifted off its elbow, his weight shifting to one side so he could wet the pad of his thumb with a lick of his tongue. You were making sounds you couldn’t control, each thrust pushing a small gasp from your throat. Then, Joel dropped his hand to your lower abdomen, gently tracing the curve of your belly down into the soft thatch of hair you hadn’t bothered to shave.

A calloused thumb found your clit, swirling over it with a confident pressure in a way that made your eyes nearly roll back in your skull. Joel was pounding into the spot that made you see stars, merciless in his pace. “Joel… oh god…”

You could feel the flutter of your orgasm starting, your legs trembled against his arm and the curve of his waist. You chanted his name like a prayer, overstimulated tears starting to squeeze out of the corners of your eyes and roll into your hairline. He just soldiered on, grinding his thumb over your clit as he worked you higher and higher toward the edge.

A rattling gasp escaped your throat as you pulsed around Joel, your brows pinching and your body stiffening beneath his. You could feel the release from the soles of your feet to the crown of your head, your nails digging into his thick biceps as the flickering pleasure turned into a full on forest fire. You leaned up to wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down onto the mattress with you as you held him close.

“Fuck,” Joel moaned into your neck. His thrusts became sloppy fast, his discipline gone to the wayside now that he made you come on his cock. You felt him twitch inside you, his breath coming out in hot huffs against the curve of your shoulder. His hand grabbed your hip, pulling you down to match his frantic thrusts as he moaned your name into your skin.

You wanted to pull his head away from you so you could see how his face looked when he finished. The muscles in his abdomen clenched, his hips grinding tight to yours as he came inside of you. You moaned with him, the feeling of being filled up by him satiating a need you didn’t know you had as you dragged your blunt nails on his scalp.

Joel finally collapsed, the weight of his body pressing down on you as you combed your fingers through his hair. His hips were cradled by your legs, sweat slicking your skin wherever it was pressed together. You breathed against one another, pulling each other close as you basked in the afterglow.

You were sharing the same air, pressing loose kisses to each other's warm skin as you melted into each other for an unknown amount of time. It could have been seconds, it could have been hours.

“We should clean up,” you finally breathed, able to come back to yourself.

Joel nodded against your neck, you felt it more than you saw it. You giggled after he didn’t move, still leaving you helpless and pinned beneath him. He seemed to make himself even more comfortable, arms constricting around you and face nuzzling closer to your throat.

“Joel,” you chastised, lightly shoving at his shoulder. It was half-hearted and meaningless–you were more than content to stay here all night if you had to.

“I like how you say that, Joel,” he said, mimicking your voice in an annoyingly high-pitched tone. It made you laugh, throwing your head back against the comforter as you shook it.

He hissed, pulling away from you just enough to prop himself up on an elbow. “You clench around me like a fucking vise when you laugh like that, baby,” Joel muttered, swirling his fingertips over your skin. He didn’t move to pull out of you quite yet, the two of you relishing in the intimacy of your embrace.

A slow smirk crossed his face, his dark eyes flickering back up to meet yours. “Plus, what’s the point of cleaning up if I’m not done with you yet?”

–

Needless to say, you were sneaking out of his room when the dregs of sunlight started streaming through the hotel room windows, sore and exhausted, with his phone number typed into your phone and his hickeys all over your skin.

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darlingshane · 1 year

Text

Something Crazy

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x F!Reader

Summary: On Natalie's wedding day, life takes an unexpected turn when you learn that your former crush, Michael, might be interested in you.

Content/Warnings: 18+, Explicit, Smut, P in V, Vanilla, Alcohol, Eating, Fluff, Crack, Pet Names, Kissing, Dancing.

Word Count: 4,6k

— You can read below or at AO3.

Today is the big day for your best friend Natalie. She's marrying her long-time boyfriend, Pete, and you've come back to Chicago for only two days to celebrate this lifetime milestone with them.

They've picked a perfect Saturday in the middle of spring to celebrate their union. Flowers are in full bloom, gardens are lush green, wind has calmed, welcoming a balmy weather to allow having a wedding ceremony outdoors.

Bright Sun rays slip like gold ribbons through the sheer fabric of the curtains as you carefully hang Natalie's gown and remove the garment bag. It's a simple but stunning empire dress, strapless, with lace and pearls adorning the corset. Though you've never fantasized about your own wedding before, as your hand slides softly along the skirt, you can't help but imagine yourself as a giddy bride, wearing that same dress.

Tying the knot is not on top of your list right now. Settling with someone? That's more likely to happen. But there's nothing like being chosen as the maid of honor, especially if you're single, to find yourself trapped in that Disney daydream of getting to meet your prince charming and live happily ever after. Hopefully, that unwelcome, sudden longing will vanish after a few drinks at the reception. Until then, your top priority is making sure your best friend's special day is as magical as she planned.

You're in the designated dressing room of the hotel with the rest of the bride's party laughing, sipping rosé, telling stories while the beautician works against the clock, getting all four of you primped and ready.

While you help Natalie get into her dress, Gigi comes back with a tray of pastries to soak the alcohol before anyone gets too drunk.

“You guys gotta see Mikey. He's so fucking hot I could die. I've never seen him all dressed up and clean like that,” she announces loudly, going around the room like a whirling handing croissants and muffins. “I swear to god his pants are so tight, it’s like looking into an x-ray photograph… you can see everything. And I mean everything,” Gigi stares at you, raising an eyebrow, while you stuff part of a croissant into your mouth.

“Ew, that's my brother,” Natalie frowns in disgust.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you say after swallowing part of your pastry.

“She's looking at you like that because, as we all recall, it was you who had a crush on him for the longest time,” the bride sharply indicates.

“She's got a point, babe.”

“I was like fifteen,” your tone pitches a little higher, as if you were still that age. “Why do you always have to bring that up?”

“Cause let's be honest, you were hung up on him for way longer than you said, and your face still lights up every time you see him. Why can't you just admit you're still love-struck?”

You open your mouth to counter her accusation, but words refuse to come out. You can't even lie for dear life cause admittedly, as fucking annoying as they are, they're also right. Michael was one of those crushes that was hard to shake off. Your friends quickly jumped from one infatuation to another, but you pinned for Sugar's cooler, slightly older brother for longer than you should have. And that's probably the reason every time all your friends get together, they use that embarrassing piece of information to tease you. Even if you ever wanted to forget, they'll never let you.

The last time you saw Michael in person was a few weeks ago for only a few minutes when you came to help Natalie with the last details of the wedding and barely exchanged a couple of words. You moved to Detroit for work three years ago, and the few times you've come back here, you haven't crossed paths with him that often. The soon-to-be married couple also forgo the rehearsal dinner altogether to save money, so you didn't get a chance to see him before the ceremony.

“All I'm saying is if you wanna take a stab at that, this is the perfect time. He's single, he has great hair, he's wearing a dope suit, and did I mention hot?” Gigi keeps cajoling. “Hell, I'll hit that, If you don't. So better act fast.”

“He always had great hair,” Samira agrees, downing the rest of her wine.

“And he asked about you the other day when I showed him the pics of our trip,” Sugar adds.

“Oh,” you try not to sound too pleased, cause you doubt he ever paid any attention to you. Why would he start now?

“Yeah, he was definitely checking you out, and loved that video of you at the karaoke bar,” Samira chimes in as she pours another glass.

“Okay, you're making that up. No more wine for you, missy,” you promptly snatch the bottle from your friend and put it away while they all laugh. “Wait… he saw the video of me singing?”

“Uh-hm.”

You file that information for later and once you are all dressed up, you hand Natalie a stunning bouquet of roses before leaving the room.

“Thanks,” she grabs your arm for a second as Gigi and Samira head out. “Sorry for making fun of you… again. You know we love you and that we just want the best for you.”

“I know,” you mumble timidly.

“Sweetie, you don't need my permission, but if you wanted to ask Michael out, it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. He'd be lucky to have someone like you.”

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“Because… You've always been like a sister to me, and part of me wanted him to see how amazing you are, so I kept telling him about you. I showed him photos and videos, hoping that he would. And he did! He really loved that one of you vibing to TLC. Thought you were funny.”

“You told him, didn't you?”

“I plead the fifth.”

“I'd stab you if you weren't about to get married,” your serious tone makes her snort.

“Look, you’re not dating anyone. He’s not dating anyone… I could ask him if he's interested before Gigi swipes him up.”

“Nat,” you sigh into a heavy pause, looking into her clear blue eyes. “We’re not in school anymore, you don’t have to play matchmaker. And it's your day! The last thing on my mind is hooking up with someone. Let alone your brother. So drop it.”

“Just saying. It could really be a wedding present for me if you two were to…” you scowl at her, which makes her leave that thought unfinished.

“Okay, that's gross, let’s get you married, so I can kill you right after.”

“Alright, alright. I promise I won’t mention it again.”

In your lavender dress and matching heels, you wait for your cue as the wedding starts. The quartet starts playing. Once the officiant and the groom are in position, groomsmen, and bridesmaids walk down the aisle in pairs. You line up with the bridesmaids by the floral arch on the side of the bride in the lush garden and watch as Natalie walks down the aisle, escorted by both brothers, Carmen and Michael.

She looks radiant, but your stare darts slightly to your former crush. He’s dressed in a dark suit and royal blue shirt, no tie. His fluffy hair pushed back, shining under the sun like black licorice. His features are sharply defined as usual, but there's definitely a certain glow around him that makes him look more handsome than you remember.

Credit where credit's due, Gigi was right. They all were. He still manages to stir those intense feelings and butterflies in your stomach that you thought gone when your eyes meet for a split second as they get closer to the altar. There's also a glimpse of a smile in his lips, directed at you. Or so it looks like. Maybe you're making it up in the chaotic mess that is your mind.

Carmy and Michael kiss either side of Natalie's face when they reach the altar, and then they take their seats on the first row as she stands face to face with Pete.

The quartet stops playing, the officiant starts speaking, and you aim your focus to the ceremony.

Once Natalie and Pete are pronounced husband and wife, there's a time dedicated to take a few pictures of the wedding party in that very same garden before losing the natural light.

Despite promising she was going to let it go, your now-married friend insists on making sure you and Michael end up in several pictures together.

“Mmm… Marcus, is it?” you shake hands with him, pretending to have forgotten his name.

“Michael,” his grip is firm around your hand.

“Oh, sorry, Mario. I have a terrible memory.”

“Don't be cute. I know you remember,” he scoffs, amused, linking one arm around your waist per the photographer's instructions.

You swallow, nervously placing your hand on his firm back, trying to keep your cool. As the photographer takes a series of snapshots, Michael starts humming a familiar song. No scrubs. The one you sang in that famous video your friends filmed.

You press your lips together, and pretend you're not hearing it. It seems like they've all been scheming together against you, or in your favor. You're not sure. You know Sugar wouldn't do anything to make you uncomfortable, but this is getting ridiculous.

“Save me a dance later, would you?” he requests with a wink once the photoshoot session is over.

“I can't, Mitchell. I've already promised that to one of the groomsmen,” lie.

“You're gonna keep that bit the rest of the day?”

You shrug your shoulders, “it's not up to me, Marley.”

“Alright, come find me when you grow up.”

He presses his lips in a tight smile and walks away, leaving you dwelling in that awkwardness that washes over you, and wondering if he's messing with you or if he's suddenly into you. Those are good questions that you can't leave unanswered. If there's a chance that Michael Berzatto likes you, and that's a big IF, you really need to find out. The ball is in your court now. The question is… Do you want to throw it back?

The party moves to the banquet room in the hotel. There's plenty of food, drinks, music, and people in the room, but none of it can't distract you from the presence of Michael. This isn't how you expected to spend the day of your friend's wedding. And it's really going to bother you if you don't at least try to have a nice conversation with him. This is probably your last chance, so right after your heartfelt toast, you wipe your tears, throw back some liquid courage to walk up to his table.

He's nursing a glass of scotch, watching people on the dance floor, when you quietly take the empty chair besides him.

“No Richie today?” you break the ice.

“Oh, you remember his name but not mine?”

“Get over yourself, Michael. You know, I always got a little awkward when I was nervous. And unfortunately, it still happens.”

“Think you're doing pretty good right now.”

“Had a little help,” you tilt your glass in his direction.

“Well, I'm glad you decided to join me,” he nods and points at the bar where Richie is conversing animatedly with your friend Gigi. “I had to convince Sugar to invite him. Hope he behaves for my sake.”

“Oh no, you're a dead man. Nothing good is gonna come out of that.”

“How so?”

“They're both insane, divorced and desperate. That's a dangerous cocktail nobody wants to drink,” you point out.

“Yeah, you're right. I guess I didn't really think it through.”

“You're screwed, Berzatto,” you take a sip of your glass and turn your eyes from the bar to Michael. “You know I was just joshing earlier, right? It surprised me that you were so… Direct.”

“Men aren't usually direct with you?”

“No, I guess I haven’t been very lucky in that department… Or maybe I’m just a bitch with unreachable standards that scares away any potential suitors.”

“That would explain a lot.”

“Gee, thanks!”

“I’m kidding. I’m sure your standards are reasonable. And I don’t think you’re a bitch if that helps.”

“Yet you’re wondering why I came here alone?”

“Not really. I didn't bring a date, either.”

“Yeah? Why is that?”

“I dunno. Maybe I have really high standards, too,” he winks casually at you, knocking you out of your game.

You should have come prepared for this, but you never thought in a million years that Michael Berzatto would ever show any interest in you.

Still trying to figure out if you're picking up the right signals from him, you prop your elbows on the table and let out a sigh as he presses the rim of his glass to his mouth to take a swig.

You bite your lip and watch the guests swaying animatedly on the dance floor.

“So. Do you wanna dance?” he softly taps one of your arms.

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“Did your sister put you up to this?”

“Why would she?”

“Don't play dumb. I used to have the biggest crush on you, and if you didn't notice, I'm sure your Sugar has told you.”

His lips draw a lopsided smile. “She might have mentioned something a while ago, but she didn't put me up to this, I swear. This is all me. I only asked you for a dance. I didn't ask you to marry me.”

“I suppose a dance wouldn’t be that bad.”

“I'll take that,” he throws back the rest of his drink in one gulp, stands up, offering his hand up to you, “shall we?”

You were hoping to have some more time to prepare, but his sharp conviction is something you can’t reject. That’s part of Michael Berzatto’s appeal. He’s always been such a bold and outgoing guy, it's daunting. It’s good to see that hasn’t changed at all. The only thing that’s different is that now he’s wasting his charms on you.

With some apprehension, you follow his steps into the dance floor. There’s a mid-tempo song playing that you don’t recognize that makes you forget altogether how to move your body. So you just stand there, three feet away from him, like a deer caught in headlights, bobbing your head, avoiding his eyes.

Michael stares at you, slightly entertained by how uncomfortable you look right now, and throws you a lifeline by stepping closer, picking up your hands and placing them on his shoulders.

“What are you so afraid of, sweetheart?” he asks, planting his palms on your waist, guiding you slowly to move with him.

“I'm afraid that I'm not a very good dancer.”

“I doubt that.”

“Wait till I step on you,” you subconsciously look down at your feet.

“Follow my lead. You'll be fine.”

“Okay, Johnny Castle, but don't make me mambo, salsa, waltz… Or anything that requires taking my feet off the ground.”

“Who the hell is Johnny Castle?”

“Patrick Swayze? Dirty Dancing?” you question, as if it was the most outrageous thing that he hadn’t heard about that film.

“I’m more of a Road House kinda guy.” Of course, he is. “Was that another crush of yours?”

“Oh, big time!”

“Ok, got it, nothing fancy, we're just swaying. See?” His hands guide your body to move side to side, but it's impossible not to feel a little clumsy in your steps.

“Hey, what do you think of Pete?” He asks, using his head to point at the newly-weds.

“Uhh,” you glance to the side to see Pete wrapping an arm around Natalie, “he can be a total douche sometimes, but he's always sweet to her. I guess that's what matters. Why? What do you think about him?”

“Words out of my mouth.”

“Michael?” You glance up to his deep dark eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Be honest, why did you want to dance with me?”

“Do I really need to spell it out for you?”

Your lips pull up on the sides as your head nods.

“Cause I wanted to dance with the prettiest girl I've ever met.”

If this is a dream, you don't wanna wake up to find out that this was just a concoction of your mind. It's not. It feels real. If you weren't holding onto him, you'd fall to your knees after hearing his words roll past his beautiful lips.

There are so many questions you wanna ask, but you can only sigh, and smile wider under the sweet glow of his brown eyes fixed on you.

“You really think that I’m that pretty or interesting?” your mouth opens after a pregnant pause, at the same time the song switches to something incredibly romantic.

“I've always thought that. It just took me a while to realize it.”

“God, you have the perfect answer to everything. That's really annoying.”

“I don't. I swear. You just caught me in a good mood.”

“I don't remember you ever being in a bad mood.”

“I have my moments. Trust me.”

He unexpectedly picks one of your hands from his shoulder, lifts it in the air to have you spinning ungracefully under his elbow before quickly wrapping his opposite arm around your waist to dip you. He grins at the shocked expression on your face for a second before bringing your body upright.

“Please, don't do that again,” you brace your hands to his chest right after.

“Why? That was perfect, sweetheart,” he laughs, “Johnny Castle would be proud.”

Your lips curl softly, letting your palms tentatively slide on his blazer until they're caught on the warm surface of his neck.

“Am I making you nervous?” he dares to ask, knowing pretty much that he's driving you crazy.

“A little,” a lot, actually.

He whispers, – sorry – as you run your fingers at the hair at his nape. You observe up close how he licks his lips, noticing his hands clutching harder to your waist. His head leans closer, and you draw a breath, preparing yourself for having his lips colliding against yours. It feels like the world stops spinning for a second and just about when he's about to kiss you something, someone in this case, crashes against your back making you lose your balance. Michael anchors you to the floor quickly before you can fall, as a slurred-drunk voice apologizes at your back.

“Fucking idiot,” Michael mutters and checks on you, “you okay, sweetheart?”

You're not. The spell is broken, and your dress suddenly feels cold and wet from the drink that was spilled along your hip.

You excuse yourself, and rush out of the dance floor, so you can clean yourself up.

There’s a big surprise in the nearest bathroom you find, and that is your friend Gigi making out with Richie with such passion, they don't even notice you opening and quickly closing the door.

The tiny glimpse that you caught of Richie propping your friend on the sink and sliding his hands under her skirt makes your jaw almost fall to the floor. You wish you could erase that from your memory immediately, but at least it has made you forget momentarily about your dress.

When you turn around, you’re faced with Michael again. You ran out so fast you didn’t notice him following behind.

“What’s wrong?”

“Richie and Gigi,” smacking your lips, you point with your thumb to the door with no further explanation.

“Wow, they didn’t waste any time.”

“That's the thing about weddings. They make people do crazy things.”

“Tell me about it,” Michael looks down for a beat, licks his lips, and steps closer.

He holds your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up. As he leans to capture your mouth, you flinch, “what are you doing?”

“Something crazy,” the corners of his mouth quirk up, making another move, and you jerk your face a second time in reflex. It’s not that you don't wanna kiss him, you absolutely do. You just need another moment to process it.

“Damn, girl. Can you just stay still, so I can kiss you already?” He demands without an ounce of entitlement. Just driven by the desire to taste your lips.

“Alright, okay… just give me a second,” you yield to his craving, letting him slowly guide you, so your back is pressed against the wall.

There’s no escape now, this is the moment you’ve dreamed with many moons ago that seemed like a pipe dream back then. All those thoughts vanish the moment his lips are pressed against yours firmly, before letting them bounce a couple of times together. His alcohol-tainted breath mixes with yours as his lips part wider. He captures your lower lip with a light suck, followed by the tip of his tongue shamelessly drawing the curve of your mouth. It's deliciously sexy and sweet and everything in between. You close your eyes and follow his lead, opening your mouth and letting him slot his lips against yours. His tongue invades past your teeth without resistance. It challenges you to kiss him back. It takes you a moment to respond, but soon enough, you're fully immersed in the depth of his mouth, taking the reins of the kiss.

You haven't been kissed like this in a while. Maybe ever.

When your mouths separate, you realize your hands are anchored to his back, and he's fully pressed against you. His lips are covered in your saliva and vice versa.

“I'm going to change my dress,” you sigh, giving him a little push, so you can put yourself together.

“Oh… Okay,” there's a hint of disappointment in his tone.

You clear your throat and harness an ounce of confidence to ask, “do you wanna come? I might need some help. The zipper is a little tricky in this thing.”

Right.

His expression turns on a dime, eyes wide open, white edge teeth showing behind his slightly parted lips. Speechless by the implication of your proposal, he cleans his lips on his palm before responding, “I… sure.”

Proud of yourself for taking a gamble and hitting the jackpot, you go back inside the banquet hall first to collect your purse from the table and then head up to the elevators with him following closely behind.

A palm lands at the small of your back while you press the button. The anticipation makes your stomach flutter wilder than ever. Who would have thought you'd be taking Michael to your room on this day? It feels surreal. Absolutely bananas.

You don't say a word during the elevator ride up to the fourth floor.

When you reach your door, you notice his palms framing your hips from behind. His touch makes your pulse tremble while using the key card. It takes you a couple of tries to open the door.

There's a strange force, an electricity buzzing, that grows more powerful the second you're inside.

You hit the light switch, drop your purse on the chair and turn to face him.

Following that unstoppable whim, you place your palms on his chest and push back his blazer. He shrugs it off as you move to undo the few buttons he's fastened. Your fingers tremor anxiously as you uncover his defined torso. You want to stick out your tongue and trace those two lines forming a V oh his abdomen that leads to the outline of his cock behind the tight fabric of his dress slacks. It’s too bold of a move for you right now, so you let your fingers do your bidding.

When your hands reach his belt, they proceed to unbuckle it under the lust-filled shadow of that flame of his gaze that could scorch the surface of the earth if he wanted to in a second.

He’s already half hard when you unzip his fly, and that's as far as he allows you to go. Michael's dying to touch you, to undress you and fuck you. He quickly turns you around, making you gasp, and finds the zipper of your dress. Your skin rises into goosebumps when he pulls the tab down. He nibbles at the crook of your neck, pushing the top of your dress down to your waist. You shimmy your legs out of it as his hands invite themselves to your skin.

His all hands and mouth around you as he removes your strapless bra and guides you to lay down on the bed.

The fire that lights up his eyes sears through yours as he slips out of his unbuttoned shirt. He then props a knee on the bed, hovering over you, and lowers his head to kiss your stomach. His tongue darts out and draws a circle around your navel. Your head falls back on the mattress, as he leaves a trail of wet kisses up your torso. He nibbles once more at your neck, increasing your arousal up to eleven.

“Michael, please,” you groan as he presses himself between your legs, grinding slowly behind layers of fabric, coaxing your juices to stain your underwear and growing himself a hard-rock erection that can barely be held by his boxers.

Lifting lifts his head, he props himself on his elbows, and surveys the tortured expression on your face as his hips keep relentlessly moving.

“Fuck, you're goddamn gorgeous, baby,” he exhales, proceeding to swiftly rid you off your panties, and pushing his pants and underwear down.

He drives his hardness inside you with great care, pushing inch after inch of that monumental erection that stretches your slicked walls. You close your eyes as he experiments with his thrusting, molding your opening to its generous size.

“Is this how you imagined this?” he pants against the corner of your mouth.

“No. This is better… Much, much better,” you purr, palming his ass, encouraging him to move faster.

If you had a free hand, you'd pinch yourself to check if this is really happening right now. It still blows your mind thinking that Michael Berzatto is deeply buried inside you, wanting you, claiming every cell of your body for his enjoyment. You gladly surrender to his desires as the cadence of his hips drive you into madness. As much as you try to contain your moans, he does everything in his hand to force every moan, curse, and breath to fly out past your teeth.

He slams into you with passion, bites your skin, grips your tits, devours your mouth, setting every inch ablaze. It’s as mind-blowing as it is fast, but he earns himself a good squeeze of your walls when he brings you to orgasm. He comes undone just merely a second after, releasing a wild grunt that ripples all over your skin, and pouring all his warm seed into the depths of your pussy, having his hips jerking erratically until he’s spilled every drop.

His cum sticks to your walls as he rolls to the side of the mattress with a grunt. Your head is spinning out of its usual axis, overtaken by that powerful boost of endorphins, and your lungs struggle for a deep breath.

For a long minute, you both stare at the ceiling while you regain your breath.

When he composes himself, he turns to the side to look at you, sweetly letting one of his fingers brush your cheek, “do you wanna do this again tomorrow?”

“Can't. I'm leaving, remember?”

“Right.”

“But you can stay the night if you want. And repeat later. And maybe one more time even later. Would you like that?”

“I'd love to, sweetheart.”

#michael berzatto x reader #michael berzatto #the bear #the bear fanfiction #jon bernthal #jon bernthal fanfiction #jon bernthal smut #darlingwrites #smut #fluff

747 notes · View notes

paxesoterica · 8 days

Text

List of Personal Highlights from the Sulemio vs. Destiel Poll

Happy Suletta Sunday! In celebration of both the G-Witch victory last week in the Sulemio vs. Destiel poll and my upcoming birthday, I decided to organize a list of notable highlights (for me at least) from the event so that they can be revisited without having to scroll through 18K+ notes (also included are some posts separate from the poll but related to it).

Links are divided between memes (self-explanatory), art (fan art excluding memes, such as drawings, custom gunpla, and poetry), data (such as histories and statistics), and shameless self-promotion (anything I personally contributed, separated because I wanted to go into detail).

While I opted to include some bits of kayfabe/posturing/saber-rattling i.e. challenges made in an over-the-top/not-serious manner, I didn't link to any of the actual heated arguments that emerged during the poll, regardless of which side I agreed with. Unfortunately, this means there isn't any pro-Destiel propaganda in the list, since for whatever reason, arguments and casual insults were the only things offered. To pay respects to the vanquished then, I offer this:

https://archive.org/details/JenTitusOhDeathSupernaturalOSTFullSong - "O Death", sung by Jen Titus, was originally offered as a free download as a Season 5 promo on the official Supernatural website, and has now been preserved by your friend and mine, the Internet Archive. Good addition to a Halloween playlist.

And now, on with the list!

Memes

https://sapphicselene.tumblr.com/post/750334061001736192/this-is-it-boys-this-is-where-you-boys-grow-up - Statement advocating voting for Sulemio. A seamless looped gif of tank driving from Girls und Panzer.

https://lexingt0n.tumblr.com/post/750515914588438528 - MMORPG meme about Suletta winning tournaments. That little blocks knocking down large blocks chain of events meme featuring Suletta's promise not to lose duels leading to the events of the poll.

https://www.tumblr.com/rdmaaron/750826628142202880/whats-honestly-funnysurprising-to-me-is-that - Meme of Miorine urging people to invest in Sulemio stocks.

https://strawberry-starstruck.tumblr.com/post/750955995182825472/all-hail-our-new-space-lesbian-overlords-the - Destiel news meme interrupted by Aerial and Suletta (warning: some blood).

https://www.tumblr.com/alphajaye071/750567808166985728 - Meme featuring Utena Tenjou and her teacher as Sulemio and Destiel respectively.

https://www.tumblr.com/incoherent-orca/750650851349200896 - Multiple instances of the GUND stocks with Miorine meme to commemorate the poll reaching 69,420 votes.

https://www.tumblr.com/pisfool/750604772606918656/but-i-do-have-the-fact-that-i-am-the-original - Video promoting Suletta Sundays.

https://www.tumblr.com/the-eeveekins/750614460006367232/templates-for-both-versions - Sulemio news meme template.

https://anachronistrocketeer.tumblr.com/post/750504949128085504 - Parody of the Destiel news meme, with Suletta and Aerial responding in place of Dean.

https://www.tumblr.com/alphajaye071/750965871770468353/woohoo-happy-suletta-sunday-everyone - Meme featuring Anthy Himemiya vs. Nanami Kiryuu's friends as Sulemio and Destiel respectively (from a scene which, in turn, references an infamous scene from Mobile Suit Gundam '79).

https://lotus-3dart.tumblr.com/post/750963665459691520/the-girls-did-it - Meme video of Suletta hurling a giant energy sphere at Dean and Castiel (I believe it's a Dragon Ball Z reference, see below).

https://but-a-humble-goon.tumblr.com/post/750735354875805697 - Meme of a scene from Dragon Ball Z featuring Goku as Sulemio.

https://fireprincesslily.tumblr.com/post/750978007676682240/combining-my-love-for-wrestling-with-my-love-for - Meme featuring pro-wrestling with Sulemio vs. Destiel.

Art

https://hibiscus-ships.tumblr.com/post/750923769121554433/gundam-fans-grab-your-backlogs - Video of a wedding-themed custom Aerial gunpla. Photographs of Suletta gunpla dressed as Utena Tenjou from Revolutionary Girl Utena and a Chuchu-themed custom Demi Trainer. Videos on gunpla diorama construction.

https://incoherent-orca.tumblr.com/post/750501055681413120 - Sulemio art by the G-Witch staff.

https://incoherent-orca.tumblr.com/post/750341224176795648/did-they-even-hug-the-artbook-though - Anime scenes and G-Witch staff art of Miorine being clingy with Suletta.

https://elioherondale.tumblr.com/post/750419275455627264/the-traveler-yet-walks-onwards-towards-a-shining - Destiel-themed parody of Percy Bysshe Shelley's poem, "Ozymandias".

https://xxsiegeubsessedxx.tumblr.com/post/750615446013853696/you-arent-immune-to-lesbians - Parody art of an old U.S. army recruitment poster, with Suletta urging people to vote Sulemio.

https://knockknockitsnickels.tumblr.com/post/750861564977020928/suletta-miorine-redraws-of-iconic-char - Art of Suletta and Miorine re-enacting iconic Char Aznable scenes (which themselves frequently get memed).

https://bace-jeleren.tumblr.com/post/750587225223446529/i-couldnt-help-myself-i-had-to-make-some-art-to - Art of Suletta and Miorine dressed as Dean and Castiel respectively.

https://verraise.tumblr.com/post/751019430886178816/congratulations-to-my-ship-of-all-timeeeee - Sulemio/G-Witch merch collection and display.

https://kaban-bang.tumblr.com/post/750956121635880960 - Art redraw of an infamous scene from the comic Invincible, with Suletta in place of Mark Grayson (warning: lots of blood).

Data

https://www.tumblr.com/sodasa-was-taken/750973801504899072/also-of-note-is-that-by-round-3-sulemio-already - Poll statistics and commentary.

https://tamaotamamura.tumblr.com/post/750607299417096192/its-a-ghost-from-the-2010s-sleep-well-grandpa - Commentary on the poll by Korean and Japanese Sulemio fans.

https://www.tumblr.com/amalgamasreal/750665351494238208/bringing-this-back-for-the-people-who-want-to-talk - Photographs of a 2023 Pride parade in Warsaw, Poland, in which a large sign featuring Suletta Mercury was displayed.

https://gurrenprime.tumblr.com/post/750402869030797313/11-life-size-gundam-transforms - Brief overview of the history of Mobile Suit Gundam in general, and The Witch from Mercury in particular. Three examples of popular memes Gundam has inspired. Two videos showcasing lifesize animatronic Gundam statues.

https://www.tumblr.com/littlegaygirly/750420814002798592/my-space-lesbians - Analysis on Suletta's and Miorine's relationship.

https://incoherent-orca.tumblr.com/post/750415682315993088 - Linguistics lesson involving the Korean localization of The Witch from Mercury.

https://www.tumblr.com/osakanone/750482397445931008/update - Extensive notes on fandom history, the queerness (both textual and subtextual) of Gundam, and fanworks as lost media.

https://www.tumblr.com/matrixdragon/750803839916097536/it-had-no-right-to-be-as-fun-as-it-was-and-had - Data on previous poll numbers for Sulemio. Photographs of the Yokohama Gundam Factory closing ceremony. Descriptions of many other Gundam shows.

https://smoltron.tumblr.com/post/750709653103689728/1991s-getter-robo-go-manga-is-also-a-very-direct - Discussion of Gundam history in particular and mecha history in general, with mentions of Neon Genesis Evangelion and Getter Robo Go.

https://touchoffleece.tumblr.com/post/750932621568163841/for-others-who-might-want-to-see-the-actual - Brief overview of why Suletta and Miorine are significant to Gundam history. Video of the Yokohama Gundam Factory closing ceremony.

https://www.tumblr.com/thelastbigkat/750687982920581120/gundams-impact-can-be-felt-not-only-in-the-things - Discussion of media that influenced Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury, poll statistics, and mecha RPGs.

https://sharkbatez.tumblr.com/post/750917362328518656/now-for-some-psa-in-asia-marriage-equality-is - Memes about the match-up based on the first duel between Guel and Suletta. PSA concerning marriage equality in Asia.

Shameless Self-Promotion

https://paxesoterica.tumblr.com/post/750322033801510912/hail-destiel-fans-know-that-you-have-my

Some kayfabe I wrote toward the beginning; it's a micro-history of the G-Witch fandom, with a declaration of our will to win, written with my best impression of a hot-blooded super robot pilot who is also a pretentious Shakespearean nerd. Someone noted that I sound a yuri town crier, a compliment I appreciate.

https://paxesoterica.tumblr.com/post/750465124605870080/the-sulemio-japan-tour - Masterlist of all videos relating to the Sulemio Japan Tour skits (with bonus trips to the orbit of Mercury and New York City).

https://paxesoterica.tumblr.com/post/750561169104928768/hail-again-destiel-fans-our-duel-has-reached-its

Second and last bit of kayfabe I wrote (in the same voice as the previous piece); I offered examples of some over-the-top insults that both the show and fandom of G-Witch have received. This bit of writing was compared to both Mashymre Cello from Mobile Suit Gundam ZZ and Urianger Augurelt from Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn, and I honestly don't know either character well enough to know how I should feel about that. ?_?

https://paxesoterica.tumblr.com/post/750485058864005120/well-yeah - An example of my extremely dubious sense of humor.

https://paxesoterica.tumblr.com/post/750579878836011008/eh-you-want-some-soup-wellwere-enemies-right - Another example of my extremely dubious sense of humor, soup edition. I am in no way responsible for making the video.

https://paxesoterica.tumblr.com/post/750765994169040896 - Video of Suletta and Miorine dancing in a parody of Yakuza 0. Again, no responsibility for creating the video, but I think both the various 3d cgi and gunpla stop motion animated videos G-Witch fans have created are very impressive (and more people should check them out).

https://paxesoterica.tumblr.com/post/750956102760398848 - A set of screenshots with slightly modified dialogue from the first episode of the anime Mobile Suit Gundam: The Witch from Mercury, followed by a bit of fan animation that still makes me laugh everytime I see it. This post seems to have been well received, and I'm glad because it was a pain in the neck to make, and I considered giving up a couple times before I completed it.

I wanted to be ready with an appropriate tribute in the event that Sulemio won (which I did not take for granted until it was actually over), and knew that I wanted to include the Suletta emoting video as part of it.

All of the 'who are these girls' questions reminded me of Vim Jeturk's reaction in the first episode, so that was the basis for me including that particular scene.

Unfortunately, I only settled on these ideas a couple days before the poll's end, during which I had no access to my computer, and thus had to do everything, from taking screenshots, to adding in altered dialogue, to struggling to remember my password for the website since the app has a 10 image posting limit, to looking for the correct storage file for the images, on my phone. Quite the experience, but not a recommended one.

The shot with the feathers and light rays was included as an allusion to Castiel's angelic nature.

Hannigram and Ineffable Husbands were named because, like Destiel, they're live action mlm ships (albeit much more difficult opponents, much like the corresponding princes in the show).

I wasn't quite sure what lines would match Suletta's expressions, but then I remembered the oldtype Gundam fan saying, "It is always correct to take pot shots at Bandai", and things worked out from there.

The exact wording of Miorine's final line gave me a bit of trouble, but I'm happy with what I came up with.

Whew! Hope some folks out there find this list useful, and in any event, have a good rest of your weekend.

#text #sulemio vs. destiel #mobile suit gundam: the witch from mercury #g-witch #sulemio #mobile suit gundam #suletta mercury #miorine rembran

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moonchildstyles · 2 years

Text

malibu

y/n finally has her dream life with her perfect husband. she just needs one more thing to make this the perfect night

wordcount: 14k+

—————

(Y/N) hummed in the kitchen, the hem of her powder blue dress swaying just below her knees as she listened to the shenanigans of Lucille Ball on the television set she had turned on in the living room. Tonight's dinner of a three-cheese lasagna was cooling on the stove top with the scent of basil and garlic warming the air. The pastry dough she'd just pulled from the refrigerator was still chilly as she rolled it out on the turquoise colored laminate covering her countertops, trying her best to make it thin enough she could see just a hint of the color underneath but not too thin as to ruin the hard work she put into layering the butter and pastry. Her diamond ring sat next to the sink, safely stashed away from tarnishing against the dinner she was finishing up for Harry's arrival home.

Just above her work station was a glass window, warped just like a funhouse mirror at the carnival Harry had taken her on their first date all that time ago, but it didn't hide the view of her backyard. She was still getting used to the view of the beach in the distance. Despite there being a row of neighbors to either side of their new home, the development they'd moved into not long ago still had the open space that (Y/N) was sure was going to be made into another set of homes if Harry's predictions about Malibu's growth were right.

Until then, she was going to take advantage of the sea view offered by her kitchen window, the sound of the waves crashing when she cracked open the glass, and the near constant sunshine that streamed through. Malibu was definitely a change from the rainy days she shared with Harry up until they moved less than a year ago, leaving their hometown where they fell in love to chase an opportunity he said could change their lives—set them up for a beautiful life together like the one he promised her in his wedding vows.

It was hard leaving her family, but being by Harry's side as they forged their own path outside of the small opportunities offered back home was more than enough to make up for the heartache. She couldn't be more proud of the man she was watching him become outside of their family's shadows.

The company he'd been brought into was doing so well, Harry walking around town with pride in his chest and a glowing smile on his face every time he could indulge (Y/N) in a dinner at the nice seafood restaurant on the coast, or even just a fresh bouquet of flowers he picked up on his way home. Nothing could beat the day he came running through the front door after work, calling to her from where she was cleaning up after her own workday, bright smile molding his features and chest heaving with the breath he was catching after running through the house.

That was the day he told her about the major promotion he'd been offered, now seated just under the head of the company. The pay raise had been substantial—something they celebrated by buying their first television set—, and he'd be able to start coming home at reasonable times instead of doing the brunt work and staying late enough (Y/N) had to keep his dinner plate warm until he walked through the door hours after the sun dipped below the ocean line. It was what they had dreamed about the day they packed up and moved out West. It only made it better when (Y/N) realized that the promotion meant she no longer had to work as a secretary at town hall if she didn't want to (which she didn't. One of the councilman was a rat and did not respect the happy marriage she was in despite how many times she'd brought up the Mr. to her Mrs. or shown off the wedding photograph she had propped up on her desk).

Now, she'd had a few months to settle into the life they had dreamed about when they laid out on the soccer field back home at the school where they fell in love. She made friends with some of the other families in the neighborhood and took pleasure in keeping house for Harry—he called it their love nest. She reveled in taking care of the details; fluffing the pillows, arranging Harry's records in perfect display, and trying to tame her growing book collection though there was always at least three novels spaced out around the house she promised to return to later before getting distracted.

(Y/N) felt like the luckiest woman in the world when she settled into their emerald green couch at the end of the day. She had wonderful friends only a door away, a loving husband, and a beautiful home that smelled of the sweets she baked throughout the week.

Today, she was trying out a recommendation from one of neighborhood friends: a peach and apple pie with cinnamon and sugar infused in the crust and almonds layering the bottom of the pan. When she had told Harry about it, he had lit up at the mention of peaches—his favorite summer fruit, he'd told her once in the backseat of his car when they were only teenagers. As she layered the now perfectly thin crust into the pie dish Harry's mother had gifted them as a wedding present, (Y/N) listened to the sound of laughter emanating from their television and hoped today's dessert would live up to Harry's expectations.

Working quietly, (Y/N) finished filling her pie dish with the sweetened peaches and crisp apples before layering over the top in criss-crossed strips of crust. On instinct, the first thing she did was wash up her now free hands before slipping her wedding ring back on. The diamond sparkled in the light, refractions dancing over the sink for just a moment before flickering out once (Y/N) strayed from the sunlight.

She felt accomplished once she slipped the completed confection in the oven, untying her apron before hanging it on the hook pinned to the wall by the fridge. Dinner was ready and waiting for the moment Harry walked through the door, with dessert baking away in the oven, sure to fill the house with the scent of cinnamon and sugar once the buttery mixture melted in with the fruit. Nothing but happiness filled her as she stood in the middle of her dream kitchen, waiting for her dream man to come home and tell her he loved her just as he did when he walked out the door that morning.

As if she manifested it, Harry came through the door just as the vision of him with his slicked back hair and navy blue suit he left in this morning entered her mind.

"(Y/N), darling, 'm home!" he called through the house, speaking over the beginning notes of The Danny Thomas Show sounding from their television set.

Her skirt fluttered around her knees as she rushed out of the kitchen, heels clicking on the tiles. "Harry," she beamed, her voice taking on a dreamy quality once she caught sight of him.

The briefcase he left the house with every morning was saddled by the door right next to the lunch pail she packed for him before he left for work as he pulled off his jacket, the rebellious set of tattoos he'd been collecting since they were teenagers winking through the thin white fabric of his dress shirt. His hair had fallen from the carefully slicked back 'do he had crafted in the mirror that morning, a rogue curl falling over his forehead while the rest of the waves struggled to make themselves known. It made him look younger, (Y/N) thought, harkening back to the days on the field at school, dimples deep in his cheeks and hair messy and curling enough that his mother nagged him to get a haircut.

Malibu looked good on him.

Harry didn't even hesitate once he had his suit jacket hanging over the back of their sofa before he was gathering his wife up into his arms, (Y/N)'s own looping around his neck. Burying his face in the crook off her neck, he hummed out a sigh that rumbled his chest.

"I missed you," he practically purred, "Left the house thinking about you, and never stopped."

Despite the fact their modest wedding had occurred just over a year ago, it felt like the honeymoon hadn't worn off. Of course, they'd had their own set of problems and disagreements to get through (the move was probably one of the most stressful times in (Y/N)'s life and she made sure to let Harry know that), but never once had those butterflies flown from her tummy or the excitement of waking up beside him fade. Now being married herself, she doesn't think she'll ever fully understand sitcom families where the husband and wife weren't tripping all over themselves to be with one another. That just wasn't her and Harry.

"I missed you, too, H," she said, mussing the baby hairs that played on the nape of his neck. After making sure to squeeze him super tight one last time, she pulled away with the intention of only moving far enough back to see his face and nothing more. She was met with a beaming smile and softly flushed cheeks, mossy green eyes adoring as they traced her features. "How was work, honey?"

His smile grew as did the dimples denting his cheeks at the gentle term of endearment she slipped in. He barred his arms around around her waist, his forearms creating a solid cradle that lined the small of her back as he canted his head down at her. "It was good. Had to review and approve m'first round of expense reports since the promotion, and—I can't lie, darling—it was so boring that I almost asked if I could go back to m'old position."

(Y/N) only shook her head with a short smile on her lips, "It couldn't have been that bad."

"It was awful, 'm telling you!" Harry exasperated, though his own mouth threatened to fall victim to a smile. "Towards the end of it, I had to start using a calculator I borrowed from accounting to double check if two plus two really was four or if I was losing it."

A playful roll of her eyes molded her expression into something teasing. "What a hard life you lead—sitting in your cushy office with a beach view, checking numbers someone else did the hard work of crunching together."

"I know," Harry sagged, playing along, "I don't know how I do it, precious. Sometimes, I wonder if I lost it ages ago, and all of this has been a dream. Wouldn't surprise me."

"You're so dramatic, Harry Edward," she scolded him, though the reprimand held little weight through her smiling mouth. "Ridiculous."

"But y'love me, anyway," he said, ducking his head down and pursing his lips in wait for a kiss.

He didn't pose much of a question, but (Y/N) couldn't help but reaffirm him. "I do love you," she whispered before granting him the kiss he was practically begging for.

Harry hummed into the kiss, contentment seeping through and coating her lips like honey. Still situated by the front door, arms wrapped round one another with Harry in his work clothes and (Y/N) in the nice dress she changed into before she started work on the dessert baking away in the oven, they didn't have any plans to move. Especially not with the way her husband gazed down at her like he didn't even see the rest of the house around them, only taking in the home standing right in front of him.

"What did y'do today, (Y/N)?" he asked, the genuine interest in his gaze painting warmth over her in broad stripes. She loved when he said her name like that.

"Nothing too exciting," she sighed, shuffling on the toes of her heels, "After you left for work, I went over and saw Sarah and the ladies for brunch, and Connie told everyone she wants to start a book club with the ladies from the neighborhood, but I don't know if I'm going to join. I don't think I'd much like the books she'd pick out, but we'll see. Then I called our moms—they want us to visit soon, by the way—before I went to the post office to mail off a couple of those photos we took at the beach last week to both of them. But after that, I spent the rest of the afternoon reading before I started dinner."

"Connie wants to start a book club?" he blanched, brows knitting in disbelief as he'd been stuck on that detail.

"That's what I thought!" (Y/N) bubbled, the strands of hair framing her face fluttering at her flustered movements, "Sarah and I had to keep from laughing when she suggested it. I almost choked on my quiche."

"Wasn't she the one refused to speak to you for weeks when she saw your copy of Bonjour Tristesse on the table?" Harry pressed, canting his head as he tried to wrap his mind around it.

"Yes, and she's the one that told me the only book she's read in the last three years was Eloise because she thinks adult literature is growing 'corrupt'."

Harry almost looked pained as he recalled that specific story (Y/N) had come home with after having lunch with her friends. "Darling," he stressed, a shake of his head following after, "I don't think y'should join that book club."

"I'll have to talk to Sarah tomorrow and see if she thinks we should join just to see what Connie thinks is worthy of having weekly meetings over, but I don't think I'll be reading any of her recommended books."

He let out a laugh at her words before tipping his chin a pressing a soft kiss to (Y/N)'s forehead. "I don't blame you," he muttered under his breath, "Y'had a busy day, precious. I don't know how y'handle all of them and still have time to make dinner and take care of the house. You're too good for me."

A heat filled (Y/N)'s cheeks, smile blooming like the bouquet of peonies that Harry had brought home Monday night to her. "No, I'm not, H. Don't say that. We're perfectly matched, don't you think?"

"I don't know, love," he sighed, looking at her like she was a dream or an otherworldly creature that he couldn't comprehend, "I think I got really lucky with you. Don't know what I did to convince y'to love me forever, but I'll take it."

(Y/N) didn't know what to say as she took in his affectionate words, her heart beating to the tune of his name. She shied in his hold, shifting in his arms to hug him around the waist with her cheek pressed against his shoulder. Harry's own arms tightening around her, keeping her safely cradled into his form.

"Where'd all this come from?" she peeped, finally finding her voice amid all of the heart shaped clouds that puffed through her head, "You're going to make me cry if you're not careful, honey."

Harry hummed, his chest rumbling under her cheek. His contentment was clear as he began to sway them on the small rug that carpeted the tile by the front door. "I listened to Etta all day in m'office while I did paperwork—can't blame me for feeling extra in love with you," he gently argued, his nose skimming the top of her head.

"And to think I thought you would be in an Elvis mood," she started, skating over his affectionate words in fear of her heart falling out of her throat if she tried to speak around it, "I even got your records out and everything."

"Mm," he hummed, reluctantly drawing away from her though he made sure to wrap one of her hands up in his as he towed her along with him to his stack of precious records he began collecting the second they had the money to do so, "I can think of one of his songs I want to listen to, darling"

He thumbed through the stack she laid out for him, the covers worn and crinkled at the corners from near-constant use. (Y/N) watched his long fingers flick through the album sleeves until he pulled out the record he was seeking, shooting her a sly glance before slipping his hand out from hers. He gave her his back as he played with the gramophone, adjusting the needle after laying the record gently on the base. The familiar static buzz of the speaker filled the air as the record spun, the grooves not quite catching on the pick until the first notes of Harry's chosen song joined the fray.

(Y/N) tilted her head with a small smile as soon as she recognized the music now filling her living room, Danny Thomas and his family completely forgotten on the television screen. Mr. Presley crooned out the opening lyrics of First In Line, one of Harry's favorites to sing to her when he was feeling particularly in love with her.

Harry wasted no time in collecting her in his hold, his palm conforming to the curve of her waist whilst he laced the fingers of his other hand through hers, palms pressed together. He held their joined hands just between their chests as he started swaying her to the music, dimples deep in his cheeks as he gazed down at her, looking all too smug.

Unable to shake the smile from her face as she danced in the living room with her husband, (Y/N) spoke around it as she told him, "You're such a cheese, H. I should've known you'd play this."

Faux-offense molded his features as he spun her around, her skirt fluttering around her shins before she was settled once again in his hold. "'M a cheese for loving m'wife? Since when is that so bad?" he argued, a light shining behind his green eyes as he ducked his head down to match her gaze, "Besides, as far as I remember, y'like it when 'm a cheese."

"Maybe," she countered with a shrug, turning her head before he could catch just how much she really did love when he became especially sticky and sweet on her.

His hand on her waist disappeared before landing on the round of her smiling cheek, pulling her back to face him. That proud grin on his face only grew once he felt how heated she was under his palm, blood glowing under her cheeks. "See? 'M right, aren't I? I see y'getting all shy, don't lie. Y'love when 'm soft on you."

With his steadying hand on her cheek and the soft of his thumb running along the height of her cheekbone, (Y/N) felt her features round out and soften all that much more as soon as her eyes met Harry's. He liked when she got like this, he'd told her before, all shy and warmed by his love; he said once it reminded him of the girl he met all that time ago when she moved next door to him, quiet and shy and so pretty, he decided then he wanted to know her.

"Maybe," she repeated on a breath, brain a little too preoccupied trying to dedicate this vision of him to memory to think of anything more brilliant to argue with. She watched as his grin grew and dimples deepened at her response; he knew he won.

Shaking his head before dipping down and pressing a gentle kiss to the bridge of her nose, Harry held her close as the final notes of Elvis's crooning voice filled their living room, the much more upbeat tone of Paralyzed now replacing it. Harry left it to play as he unraveled himself from around his wife, only reaching back to turn down the music and flick off the television before tugging her along with him towards the kitchen.

"Said y'finished dinner already, darling?" he asked her, casting his gaze over his shoulder at her, the heels of his fancy work shoes clicking over the tiles.

"Mhm," she hummed, finding her voice despite the distracting view of his contracting muscles under the stretch of his shirt, "It's—uh—it's that lasagna I told you one of the ladies recommended. It should be cooled down by now, if you're ready."

Harry feigned a nonchalant shrug before slipping his hand out of hers in favor of reaching for some glasses and the bottle of wine he had stowed atop of the fridge. "Yeah, I think I could eat before I take y'upstairs."

(Y/N)'s mouth went dry at the implication of his words, thighs squeezing under the cover of her dress. "You want to take me upstairs?"

Casting a glance over his shoulder, his face displayed something incredulous, like he couldn't be sure she was really questioning him. "Of course I do, silly. Where have y'been for the last twenty minutes?"

Despite his teasing, she couldn't stop the smile that took her lips and the heat that bubbled under her skin. "I'll get everything ready, then," she said, reaching for a duo of plates to dish out tonight's dinner onto. With her back to him, spatula in hand as she cut out squares of the cooled lasagna, (Y/N) listened to the clinking of glasses before a wine cork was dislodged from the bottle. She swallowed, voice coming out like a secret, "Y-You'll take me upstairs after, though?"

"If I can wait that long," Harry answered in a beat, voice casual like (Y/N) wasn't feeling her muscles unravel and tighten all at the same time as he spoke. He might as well have been asking her if she wanted to see Marilyn Monroe's new movie this weekend with how dismissive his tone was.

Swallowing, all (Y/N) was able to peep out was a quiet okay, as she grated extra cheese on the top of their lasagna squares. She took her time as she dished out helpings of the leafy salad she had off to the side and the twisted breadsticks she'd learned the recipe for from Harry's mother. The plate assembly was a needed distraction as she processed his words.

Her voice came back to her as she turned with the filled plates in hand to find Harry sat at the head of the dinner table, a glass of wine dictating where she was meant to sit across from him. He had rolled the sleeves of his shirt up, leaving his forearms bare, the multitude of ink on his left arm looking especially dark with the help of the fading sunlight leaking in through the sliding glass door behind him. That one stray curl that refused to stay in place still hung over his forehead, matching the boyish charm that lit up his eyes once he caught how flustered his wife was. All it took was the raise of an eyebrow at her, dimple threatening to dip into his cheek, that she spoke again.

"And if you can't? Wait that long, I mean," she murmured, settling his plate in front of him first.

He shrugged, catching her eye again with his cute smile full of white teeth and raspberry colored lips. "Guess I'll jus' have to have y'on the table, then."

(Y/N) couldn't even have hoped to school her features into a more lady-like reaction before her jaw fell open, parting her lips into a small gape, gaze going dreamy and rounded while the set of her shoulders bowed. Her breathing hitched in her lungs, the air coming out in a puffed exhale she hadn't intended on letting out. There was nothing in her head that she could compute as she looked at him, innocent expression on his face despite the words that hung in the air between them.

The seconds she lagged behind in getting herself together only served to make Harry more and more smug over his effect on her. The spell was broken as soon as he patted her on the bottom, urging her towards her already set up spot at the table, red wine in a crystalline glass at the ready. "Go sit down, darling," he told her, "I think y'need to eat a little bit before we talk any more about that, hm?"

On stilted legs, she moved to her spot at the dinner table, facing Harry at the other end. She could feel his eyes on her with every step, her heels clicking over the tiled floor in sparks of noise. (Y/N) tried her best to settle her features, even out her reaction a little more before she sat down and had to face him again. She figured she didn't do too stellar of a job when Harry's grin could be seen over his wine glass as he took a sip.

A beat passed as they cut into their food, (Y/N) doing so on autopilot as she couldn't shake the vision of Harry bending her over the dining table and taking her just as he said, before her husband let out a praising moan around the food.

"(Y/N)," he started, affection dripping from his voice as it wrapped around her name in a loving squeeze, "this is wonderful. Y'said the ladies gave y'the recipe?"

Perking up under his praise, she cast him a genuine smile around her heart in her throat. She nodded her head, hair fluttered about at the motion, "It was Glenne's recipe. There's like three different cheeses, and marinated garlic, and all this other fancy stuff. It kept me busy."

"This might be m'new favorite," Harry pressed, his smile going lopsided as he gazed at her, "Best chef in the neighborhood, I swear."

"I don't know about that," she brushed off through her smile, feeling her features heat for a different reason this time.

He was the best at distracting her, she realized, as he continued speaking. Though she still yearned for the moment she could hopefully convince him to do anything—take her here on the table or upstairs to their bedroom—, he was definitely doing his part of distracting her with sweetened praises and questions of what book it is that she read today.

She just hoped he wouldn't be so good at it that he forgot that promise.

—————

"I can wrap up some leftovers and send them with you to work tomorrow, if you want?"

(Y/N) cleared up the table, her setting already waiting in the sink as she had put it away when getting Harry's second serving of the night. She spoke over her shoulder to Harry as he still sat at the dinner table, glass of wine down to the final sip as his eyes followed her.

"That would be nice, darling, thank you," he smiled, stretching in his seat before leaning into the carved back, "Then, I'll get to brag to everyone about not just how smart and pretty my wife is, but she's the best cook in town, too. Marinates her own garlic and everything."

"See? Just like I said—you're a cheese," she laughed, shaking her head before focusing her attention on the dinner plates now soaking in the soapy water filling the sink.

Dinner had gone by quietly, Harry being the sweetheart he always was and asking her more about her own day before providing anecdotes about his own, making plans with her for this weekend, and obnoxiously praising her cooking. While he'd done a good job of steering the conversation towards safe dinner table talk, she still couldn't shake the anticipation that grew in the pit of her stomach every time he opened his mouth. She wondered every time if this was going to be the moment that he declared he could no longer wait around, that he wanted to take her right now. She wondered if he would push his plate out of the way and knock his wine to the side before hiking her up onto the table and serving her up like his most preferred meal.

Seeing as how (Y/N)'s dress was still buttoned to her neck and every piece of china was in perfect condition, that moment never came. Instead, she dished out a second helping of his new favorite dinner and sat with her glass of wine as she talked to him about anything other than the warmth that had gathered between her thighs. Besides, she still had hope that even if she didn't get bent over the dining table with Harry pressing into her from behind, that she'd at least have the weight of his body hovering over hers as he worked her into their mattress upstairs.

As she laid out their plates on the drying rack stationed to the side of the sink, (Y/N) felt a pair of arms slip around her waist before a pair of lips dropped a kiss to the cuff of her shoulder. A gentle smile tugged at her lips as her hands slowed in the soapy water, only a set of forks sitting at the bottom of the sink. Harry's arms were strong around her waist, her form being hugged back into his chest tight enough she could feel the expanding of his lungs with every deep inhale.

"Have I told y'how pretty y'look today?" he mumbled into her skin, the words being stamped over her pores and sinking into her melting system.

Tipping her head to the side, she offered the expanse of her neck for him to trail his kisses over, the warmth of his mouth heating her blood. "Maybe a little."

"Doesn't sound like I've said it enough then, does it?" he countered, his hold on her loosening until his palms were on either side of her hips. He took advantage of the grip and spun her around in his arms. He gazed down at her with heat hiding behind the jade of his eyes, tracing languidly over her features while his arms looped around her waist. "So, so gorgeous, darling," he praised her, voice a breathy whisper tinted with the scent of the cherry-noted merlot they shared, "And so patient, aren't you? Saw y'squirming all through dinner, but not once did y'interrupt me or whine for taking m'time—not even when I asked for seconds."

Swallowing around the lump of her heart that climbed up her throat, (Y/N) whispered, "You noticed?"

"Of course, I did, darling," Harry told her with pure confidence, cocking his head to the side as if he couldn't believe she was asking, "Had m'eyes on you the whole night, of course I noticed my pretty little wife getting antsy, waiting for me to bend her over the table."

It was the way her jaw fell open, lips agape, and eyes gazed up at Harry in a dreamy daze that made it almost too clear how on the nose he was. That confidence that shone in his eyes spread over his face as his lips quirked into a lopsided grin, all too smug to be fair with his dimples softening his features. She floundered over a response, restless fingers busied with the buttons on Harry's top.

"I mean," she swallowed, trying her hand at his signature nonchalance though she didn't pull it off nearly as well as she couldn't pluck her gaze from her hands on his chest, "I wouldn't have complained if that happened."

Harry's response lagged, causing (Y/N) to pull her eyes from the sheer pink painted over her nails, to find him looking to her with the blunt of his teeth digging into his bottom lip. His eyes were clear as he scanned them over her features, tracing over the planes of her face before dropping to the curve of her throat. She watched as he followed the lines and slopes of her neck, the smooth skin disappearing under the collar of her dress. She felt exposed even with the cover of her dress, fingers growing restless as she plucked at the buttons fastening his shirt to the broad of his body with her wedding band glimmering in the lowlight.

"And what would y'have done if I did do that, since y'weren't going to complain?" he murmured to her, the air in the room being sucked out as he dropped the volume of his tone.

Her breathing was interrupted as she struggled to figure out how to tell him how good she would have been for him had he pulled her out of her chair and flipped her skirt up. She didn't know how to articulate how quickly she would have dropped to her knees in the middle of their meal if he gave her the right look, ready to please him. She didn't know how to express that she wouldn't have blinked an eye seeing their china fall to the ground and wine splash over the tiled floor with a sweep of his arm before tugging her up with her back flat on the table before placing himself between the cradle of her thighs, driving his hips between her legs.

"Y'would've let me, wouldn't you?" he mused, voice growing thick and dark like molasses. His hold on her shifted, his arms falling from the loop they made around her waist to anchor his hands on either side of her hips, the flare fitting into his palms. With his new grip, he kept her steady as he pressed his hips flush against hers, the ridge of his hardened cock pressing into the soft of her stomach through her linen dress, the fabric creasing and molding itself around him. Harry didn't need an answer before he continued, backing her up in the direction of the dining table behind her as he said, "Y'would have just laid there pretty for me while I had m'fill, huh? Perfect little wife, taking care of her man, aren't you? Work so hard all day to keep you in your pretty dresses and nice house, least y'could do is have me between your legs, relax with your pussy around m'cock."

If not for his hands on her hips, (Y/N) swore she would have toppled to the ground; bones emulating her soft insides that were willing to turn into anything, bend into any shape at Harry's will. Her steps backwards were nothing more than clumsy shuffles as she couldn't find anything in her brain willing to function on any other plane than the view that was granted in front of her. She watched as Harry took a slow perusal of her features, noting the way he smiled at her reaction, the curl lingering and slow though his eyes darkened with the blown out size of his pupil.

"Is that what y'would have done for me, (Y/N)?" he pressed just as (Y/N) hit the edge of the dining table, the empty wine glasses tottering on the surface at the force. Before she had a chance to distract herself with the noise, Harry brought his hand up to her face, pinching her chin between her thumb and forefinger. He ensured she matched his gaze, nothing more important in that moment than who was standing in front of him. "Tell me the truth, darling."

Her hands fluttered behind her, gripping the edge of the table with her nails tapping the underside of the surface as Harry pressed himself flush against her. Her bottom edged to sit on the table, her feet threatening to lift from the ground if Harry made the right move and laid her out on the surface. Forcing herself to release her bottom lip from the cage of her teeth, she nodded her head. "I wo-would. I would've been so good for you, H, I promise. Let you do whatever you want—I'll take it."

"Yeah?" he pressed, dipping his head just right to come near enough that the tip of his nose skimmed hers.

He was just close enough to feel the heat of his breath fanning over her skin, but not close enough to feel even the barest graze of his lips over hers. Tipping her head back, she only nodded to him as an afterthought before smoothing her mouth over Harry's, something akin to relief touched at her system at the first graze of his mouth she'd had since he came home. Harry melted into the contact, his hold on her softening though the press of his bulge into her stomach never lessened. His hand on her face slipped to fall over the curve of her neck, palm pressing against the base as her breathing stuttered underneath it.

A smug curl of his lips could be felt against her mouth as he gauged her reaction. Harry's hand on her hip urged her backwards, pushing her to sit herself on the table despite the flower arrangement lurking just behind her. Reluctantly, his hand sitting at the base of her throat traced down her form before matching the other on her hip. His palms warmed her through the fabric of her dress, the imprint of his wedding band sinking into the soft of her skin.

Distracted by the slip of his tongue into (Y/N)'s mouth, she hadn't noticed the way his hands slid further down her body until they wrapped around the back of her thighs. He swept her off her feet, her gasp coating Harry's mouth as her hands fluttered to steady herself with a hold on his shoulders. He settled her gently on the surface of the table, the reaching leaves of the peony arrangement tickled at the back of her bare arm, goosebumps rising in the wake.

Harry didn't waste a second before he fit himself snugly between her legs, soft thighs cushioning his hips. His palms cradled her cheeks as he smeared his lips over hers in frantic kisses, tongue wetting her lips and sweeping over her own. Strands of his hair tickled her nose as they fell from the perfect coiffed style he wore to work, the ends curling and reaching out towards her like they couldn't stand to not be touching her like the rest of him. (Y/N)'s breathing came out in soft puffs through her nose as she tipped her head in whatever which way Harry wanted her during their messy kisses.

Feeling his shoulders under her palms through the fabric of his shirt wasn't enough for (Y/N) anymore as she hooked her ankle around the back of his leg. It wasn't fair, she decided. She made him dinner and kept the house warm while he was away at work, she deserved to feel the heat of his bare skin, the heave of his chest as he struggled to steady his breathing despite refusing to stop kissing her, the beat of his heart against his ribcage under her hand. She deserved all of that.

Tracing her hands down from the broad of his shoulders, (Y/N) sought out the row of buttons fastening his shirt to his form. She blindly ran her palms over his chest, fingertips itching to take apart the material in favor of reaching the bare of his skin. As soon as she hit that first button, she made quick work of the binding, taking them down one by one as Harry's kissing dissolved in favor of feeling a smug smile against her mouth.

"Could've jus' asked if y'wanted me to take this off, precious," he told her, the murmur quiet as it floated between the two.

She felt breathless as she spoke, her nose nudging against his as she gave a short nod, "I-I want it off. Please, I want to touch you, H."

Though he didn't make any attempts to stop her hands from playing with the final button on his now untucked shirt, Harry didn't make any move to help. He seemingly considered her request, a brow raising as he seemed to remember something.

"Are y'sure?" he pressed, hands on her face moving to slid into her hair, "I thought y'said you'd lay there and take it for me—promised you'd jus' be my pretty little wife and let me take you. Don't really need to touch me if y'do that, do you?"

She floundered at his response. Of course she wanted to be good and take it—take him—, but didn't he want her to touch him? That wasn't fair, (Y/N) thought. That's not fair to feel his hands all over her body, and not have the chance to reciprocate; even now with his fingers threading through her hair, she couldn't fathom not doing the same to him with even a brush of her fingertips over his chest or a comb through his hair.

"B-But, H—That's not fair, I want to tou—"

He cut off her whining with a tender kiss to her lips, the perfect distraction as she melted into him. "'S alright, darling," he soothed her, "I was only teasing. Let me help you, yeah?"

With her hands fisted in the hem of his shirt, she nodded her head in giddy jerks. "Thank you, thank you, H," she told him through her growing smile.

She gladly let her hands fall from his form as soon as she felt Harry's replace hers at the final fastening on his top. His dress shirt was quickly shed from his form as soon as the final button was undone, creating a white puddle at his feet. (Y/N) watched through a dreamy gaze as he then fit his fingers through the neckline of his undershirt, the white tank joining the puddle of material on the floor only a second later.

(Y/N) couldn't help the satisfied grin that molded her features as soon as she caught sight of the full of Harry's tanned torso. Their days at the beach were not spent in vain she could see now with the black of his tattoos standing out against the gold of his skin. He was the perfect Malibu daydream: curling hair, dark tattoos from a rebellious streak inked over tan skin, bright green eyes rivaling the seafoam in their backyard, and the glint of a shining wedding band on his finger.

"This what y'wanted, (Y/N)?" he asked her, resuming his spot between her legs though his hands made a new home on the tops of her thighs. Her dress conformed to the shape of his fingers, ruching up just enough to unveil more of her legs the more he moved.

"Mhm," she hummed, pleased with herself once he was close enough for her own hands to land on his bare skin. He was just as warm as she had glimpsed under his work shirt, skin soft as her fingertips dented the flesh though there was only so much give over the blocks of his muscles.

Just as she made a move to press a kiss to the hollow of his throat, manicured nails raking over the birds etched just under his collarbones, Harry stopped her. His hands were firm as they landed on her waist. It was his turn to look a little smug down at her, (Y/N) knowing that he let her win only so he could collect his own bigger victory.

"You've got to take something off now, too. Keep it fair, darling, right?" he mused, sharp gaze dropping to her own set of buttons tying her dress up high on her front.

A pout made itself known on her features as soon as she realized what he was suggesting. "But, Harry, that's not fair. I only have my dress on, so it wouldn't be fair if I was naked and you're still half-dressed," she argued, sounding a bit petulant to her own ears though she didn't have it in herself to care much at the moment.

Harry's grin seemed to only stretch wider, dimples deep thumbprints in his cheeks, at her words. "'M sure we can figure something out, don't you think?"

It was then that she watched as he lowered himself to his knees between her legs. Her feet dangled on either side of him, the toes of her heels tapping against he width of his forearms. With the fluff of her dress obscuring Harry's hands as they disappeared up the hemline, (Y/N) was reminded of her wedding day in that moment. She remembered the way he ran those same hands up her legs, her cheeks having been blazing on fire with her blood bubbling underneath at the fact their families had been watching as he searched for the garter under her wedding gown. Now, there was a much less innocent glint to his eyes, something much more smug in his smile, and the heat under her skin had less to do with embarrassment.

The clear green of his eyes became the focal point of (Y/N)'s view as she gazed down at him, her hands once again curled around the lip of the table in an effort to keep herself steady as she watched. His own hands traveled under the length of her dress, nails catching on her soft skin with tickling scratches that he soothed with a sweep of his fingertips until he found the line of her underwear. He directed her to budge up, darling, as soon as he found the waist of the soft cotton, wasting no time before working the garment down the length of her legs. He helped her kick off her heels before the underwear followed, the sodden middle clear in the lowlight filling the dining room.

"Feels a lot more fair now, doesn't it?" he told her, satisfied as he cast his gaze to the panties in his hands, definitely noting the slick that coated just where her pussy would have been nestled in the fabric.

"Not with you all the way down there," she complained, already missing the heat of him all around her and the width of him between her thighs. Besides, she didn't go through all that trouble to get his top off only to look at him from a distance.

Harry tsked at her as he dropped her panties to the growing pile of laundry on the floor, rising from his knees as he playfully shook his head. "And to think," he started, drawing his hands up over her legs with the hem of her dress still caught on his wrists, "that y'had promised me you'd be good. I don't think backtalk is being good, is it, darling?"

As soon as he was near enough, (Y/N) didn't hesitate before she trailed her hands up his arms, inky tattoos on his left arm standing out starkly against her own design-less skin. "Can you blame me?" (Y/N) countered, looking up at him through fanned out lashes, "You wouldn't like it if I was half dressed but you weren't able to touch me at all. Especially, if I had been teasing you all night."

Only a single dimple dented into Harrys' features as a lopsided smile took over his mouth, an affectionate glaze lacquering his eyes. "I guess I can't when y'put it that way," he mused, dipping his head a pressing a kiss to her own kiss-swollen lips, "I have been teasing you all night, haven't I? Of course, you're going to act out when 'm making y'so needy."

With the rumbling of his voice she could hear just as much as she could feel with her hands on his chest, and his body pressing into hers, (Y/N) nodded her head as best she could without drawing too far away from his lingering kiss. The tip of his nose skimmed along the side of her own, as he indulged her in a seeking press of his lips before he drew away. He drug his gaze over her form, following the line of her neck until it disappeared under the collar of her dress until he found his hands on her thighs. The skirt was still bunched at his wrists, concealing the way his fingertips were denting into the soft of her thighs underneath the fabric.

He took his time inching his hands up her legs, his gaze following after. (Y/N) felt her entire body clench, muscles tight, as soon as she felt the tips of his fingers met the crease of her thigh just before the sensitive skin of her core. The beginnings of a self-satisfied smile worked on his mouth as he peered at her through his lashes, a little too amused at her reaction.

"H-Harry, please, can you just—...You said no more teasing," (Y/N) whined when he lingered too long, not moving his hands any farther than the full of her thighs and gentle fingertips not even daring to prod any deeper between.

"Did I say that, darling?" he mumbled, voice barely more than a graveled whisper, "Because I don't think I would. I like this game a little too much to have promised to stop."

(Y/N) couldn't help herself before her features contorted, a crease filling in between her brows and eyes going distressed to match the pout on her lips. "But, Harry—"

"Don't whine like that, darling," he stopped her, voice a firm murmur, "I'll give y'what y'want, jus' let me play."

Though it wasn't the answer she wanted (the ideal response she was looking for at this point was him undoing his pants before driving himself between her thighs, but it would appear that life isn't fair), she was going to have to accept it if she wanted him at all. Nonetheless, as he continued his lingering game, hands not even moving at this point, she keened her back, arching into him in search of his kiss.

Something calmed in her as soon as she felt his lips seal against her own. She was grounded to the moment finally, his mouth a promise that he was going to take care of her, not to worry because he had her. She had to take that if she was going to stay sane through his games. Harry seemed to notice her compliance then as he finally drifted from the spot his palm was warming over her thigh and brushed his fingertips over the mound of her core. Desperation made her skin overly sensitive, the barely there touch calming an ache that lingered just under the surface. Her fingernails dug into the wood of their table at the touch, spine stiffening with a hitch in her breath.

"See?" he told her, words fanning across her opened mouth, "When you're sweet, y'get what y'want."

"Y-Yeah," she agreed, voice a touch shaky as she wanted more of his attention, "Thank you, H."

The hand he still held on her thigh tightened at her gratitude, fingertips denting the soft flesh he regularly fawned over when he had his face tucked between them. Tipping his head, he smeared his lips over the corner of her mouth, his own expression twisting as if that was exactly what he wanted to hear from her. Her murmured something against her skin that was too muffled to catch anything more than the affection seeping from his tone as he drew himself closer to her form, leaving just enough room for his hand to work between them.

Harry's gentle fingertips moved deftly down between her legs, tracing over her slick slit. (Y/N) breath became stuck in her throat when she felt him graze over her pearled clit, thighs tensing around his hips. She tried to say his name—say anything—but nothing came out other than the strangled air that lingered in her lungs. With his two fingers bundled together, he slid them over her folds, coating himself in her wetness as he dropped his head to burrow against the curve of her neck. As he kissed over her jumping pulse, (Y/N) was hyperaware of the way his two longest fingers prodded around her slick opening, teasing her as she clenched around nothing. Using his grip on her leg and a push of his hip on the other, Harry spread her open wider, baring her completely to him.

With her skirt pushed up to her waist, just barely concealing what Harry was doing between her legs from view, (Y/N) had half the mind to be embarrassed, knowing just how easy it would be for a nosy neighbor of theirs (and Lord knows they have enough of them) to peek through an open window and catch her husband moments away from fingering her on the dinner table. Before she could get too far with that thought, (Y/N) entire body fell lax as Harry sunk his fingers inside her.

"Oh my god," she keened, back arching as her head fall backwards with her throat on display. Her toes curled from where her feet dangled on either side of Harry's legs, matching the grip of her hands on the edge of the table, scratches sure to be left on the underside from where her nails gouged the wood.

His smug smile could be felt against her shoulder as he made no move to draw away from the home he made in the soft of her form. He thrusted his fingers in lingering pulls between her parted thighs, thumb grazing the bud at the top of her slit while his fingers prodded at her soft spots from the inside.

At the first brush of his fingers against her most tender spot—the one he helped her discover in the backseat of his car just after they graduated—, she reflexively unlatched her hand from the lip of the table. She reached for his forearm, the muscles bunching and tensing under her hands as he stroked his fingers inside her wetness. Now her fingers dented the warm skin, his body her lifeline in that moment. The sound of her slick swallowing around his fingers traveled through the room, drowning out the notes of Elvis that dared to filter through the house. Despite how relaxed she felt at the first dip of his fingers inside her, an unbelievable pressure ribboned itself around her insides, tightening her further and further until she swore if not for the distraction of all the pleasure coursing through her system, she could have been in pain. Her eyes fell closed with a flutter of her lashes, hair falling down her back as she couldn't find it in herself to right her posture.

"Relax, darling, relax," Harry crooned to her, his voice breaking through the atmosphere that was building around her, "If you're too tight for m'fingers, how am I gonna fit inside, hm? Relax so I can give y'what y'want."

"I-I can't help it, Ha-Harry," she cried, tips of her hair tickling her skin as she shook her head.

"Yes, y'can," he told her, the command spreading like honey over her skin as he spoke into her neck. The tip of his nose skimmed along the curve of her throat as he worked up to whisper into her ear, "Jus' breathe, alright? Settle down and then I'll give you m'cock, yeah?"

Though his fingers never relented the pace they were working between her legs, only lingering longer and longer over her walls as they grew snug around him, (Y/N) tried her best to follow his direction. Her breathing came in shaky inhales, cut off when he pressed his thumb into her clit just right or tapped on the tender spot on her insides, but she was trying. She used the feel of Harry's lips lingering over her neck and the anchor of his arm under her palm to ground her to the moment. It took a few tries before she had an even pace going, her body relaxing as she allowed him to manipulate her as he pleased without her body trying to reign control.

"That's better, precious," he praised her, slowing his fingers between her legs into gentle strokes to help open her up. His hand on her thigh gave another squeeze before slipping out from under the cover of her dress. She felt the heat of his palm trace over her form until she felt his fingers wrap around the base of her exposed throat. The span of his hand pressed into the shelf of her collarbones, urging her to lay back as he drew away from the home he made along the curve of her form. "Lay down, darling."

His command came out on a breathy exhale that fanned over her skin, a layer of goosebumps erupting in its wake despite the humidity that suddenly filled the dining room. (Y/N) didn't stand a chance against his gentle pushing, carefully laying back on the table without disrupting the bouquet of flowers that reached out to touch her. Now without the anchors of his arm and the edge of the table to grip into, (Y/N) fisted her skirt in her hands, eyes hooded as she gazed up at Harry through the veil of her lashes.

The ink of his pupils was large and blown out, darker even in the low hanging light that centered over the dining table. She felt like the perfect meal lying before him with the way his gaze lingered over her form, tracing each curve and flare and dip of her body through the linen of her dress. His hand on her neck slipped down her body, now only a ghost of his warmth being felt on the hollow of her throat. All the while, his leisurely thrusting fingers between her legs came to a slow stop before he pulled them from her entirely. (Y/N) hissed when he made a point to drag his fingertips along her slit and press into her budding clit, her back arching just enough to bow off the surface of the table.

He hushed her gently, Harry's voice coming as a coo around her name as he soothed her. He ran his clean hand down the length of her thigh in a calming run before all evidence of his touch was gone in an instant. (Y/N) caught her breath in that moment until she heard the found of his fingers tinkering with the buckle of his belt and the unzipping of his trousers. Her heart stuttered for a moment at the noises, knowing what was coming next, until upstarting at a pace she couldn't remember achieving outside of their wedding night.

"Keep them open for me, love," Harry instructed her, his hands landing on her hips to drag her to the edge of the table as he worked himself between her thighs. She hadn't even realized she had gone to close her legs until he said anything, instinctively aching to close them and give herself some of the relief she was missing since he pulled away.

Craning her neck, she opened her eyes just enough to find her husband standing between her legs as they dangled over the side of the table, his gaze trained to the apex of her thighs. Her eyes trailed over his form, the light sheen of sweat gleaming in the low light of the dining table as it slicked over the designs inked on his skin. His corded arms were tight and bunched as they worked below his waist line, the view of their ministrations obstructed from (Y/N)'s view with her bunched skirt in the way. Nonetheless, she could see the way his features were twisted into a look she knew well from their nights between the sheets, and hear the glide of his hand along his length to fill in the gaps of what was happening out of her line of sight.

(Y/N) couldn't find it in herself to look away at the way the blocks this muscles moved under his tanned skin, and the flop of his curls as they fell over his forehead. Not even when Harry peered up at her through his lashes, something smug curling his lips with dimples that seemed much less innocent in that moment thumbing into the apples of his cheeks. He was all too happy to have her attention, wide eyes pinned to him and parted lips letting out ragged breaths that fought to form his name. His hand on his length slowed as he shuffled between her thighs, the sound of his shoes clicking over the tile underneath sounding like fireworks in the quiet of the house. His free hand landed on her hip then, the weight a buoy in that moment.

"Ready for me, precious?" he asked her just as she felt the first swipe of his prick through her folds, head nudging her clit.

"Uh-huh," she keened, nodding her head, "Please, please, H."

As soon as (Y/N) caught sight of the smug smile on his lips, she let her head fall back onto the wood of the table. She knew exactly what he was going to ask of her.

"You know how to ask me, darling." He never stopped teasing her as he spoke, even upping the stakes as he pressed his prick against her weeping hole.

"But, H—"

"Nu-huh, precious." She could imagine the way he shook his head as he spoke, knowing exactly the kind of torture he was putting her through when he started this game. "Jus' say it, and you'll have me. You know what I want."

(Y/N) brows knitted together in the middle as she pouted. It wasn't like what he was asking for was hard to give him, but she didn't understand why she had to do all of these things when they both wanted the same thing. Besides, whenever she uttered those words, she felt her skin warm with her cheeks being the epicenter. Even now, years after the first time he ever coaxed the phrase from her, it made butterflies churn in her tummy and prod at her insides.

"'S all you've got to do, then 'm yours," Harry persuaded her, emphasizing the truth with a gentle rock of his hips that nudged just the very tip of his cock into her clenched opening.

That teasing push was enough to get (Y/N)'s jaw dropping. Whatever inhibitions she had barring her from abiding to his request dissolved in that moment and turned into another squeeze of her pussy at the thought of him inside. "Please, fuck me, H, please, please," she pleaded, swearing for him just as he wanted.

"How?"

Her eyes squeezed shut at the followup that came less than a moment after she let out her breathless pleads. "Hard, H," she told him, swallowing before continuing, "I want you to fuck me hard, Harry. I don't want to be able to look at our dinner table again without getting wet for you."

When she won the battle to blink her eyes open to see if that was what he wanted from her, (Y/N) found Harry with his brows cinched in the middle and his tongue peeking out at the corner of his gaped mouth as he gazed down at her. She hooked her ankle around the back of his leg, urging him in a reminder of what he promised.

"G-Good girl, darling," he told her, voice a breathless rumble, "Gave me jus' what I wanted, didn't you? 'M yours, now, yeah?"

Before she could even fathom an answer, Harry gave a swift thrust of his hips and drove his cock through her soft insides. The slick sound of her pussy swallowing him filled the room as she fought to find her breath and any working train of thought that wasn't wobbly on its tracks. The help of his fingers inside her before allowed him to slip in without resistance despite the snug fit of her walls around him.

Just as she had begged him barely minutes before, Harry gave her a moment to adjust to having him inside her before he reared back, leaving just the tip to warm inside her, and gave a hard thrust to bottom out again. The force knocked the breath out of her, back arching off the table and disrupting the wine glasses still balanced on the surface. She wanted to say his name—say anything—though nothing succeeded in making its way out of her throat, his forceful thrusts cutting that idea off before it even had a chance of budding in her head.

"Jus' like y'wanted, darling? Am I giving it to y'hard enough?" Harry's words came out rocky as he balanced his hands on either side of her hips.

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," she whined in time with the strokes of his hips, her legs instinctively wrapping around him as he worked her.

"Th-Then you've gotta do something for me, too, (Y/N)."

She didn't even have to think before she was blindly agreeing to his terms.

"Undo your dress for me, yeah?" he asked of her, hands squeezing her hips as his hips stuttered in their rhythm, "Let me see your tits."

(Y/N) felt as if she was moving on autopilot as she unfurled her fingers from the mess of linen they were trapped in and frantically worked on the buttons fastening the top of her dress to her chest. With each clumsy undoing, more and more of her skin was exposed to the tapped air of the room, a layer of goosebumps raising with every brush of her fingertips over her bare skin. The satin cups of her plain white bra shone under the light, the fabric going champagne gold from the amber bulb.

As soon as she unbuttoned her dress down to the cream colored sash that wrapped around her waist, Harry flicked her hands out of the way with his own. His palm landed headily on the exposed skin of her stomach, his touch steady despite the unwavering pace of his hips thrusting into her. She felt his warmth bleed through the padding of her bra as he reached to pulled the cups down. The job was clumsy as he sent her bra askew, baring her breasts for him. He was quick to cup one of her breasts with his warm palm, thumb skimming the peek with his nail catching on the soft curve.

Just as he squeezed around the soft flesh, he knocked her breathless with the help of a druggingly rough thrust of his hips. The tip of his cock nudged against the soft of her insides, far enough she couldn't even fathom how he managed to hit her tummy and still have more to give her.

"H-Harry, oh my god!" she cried, the words falling from her mouth before she could properly find the air for them. Her thighs squeezed around his hips just as she felt her walls do around his prick, her entire body urging him to stay with her, to do that again.

"'M here, darling. 'M taking care of you, don't worry, darling," he crooned to her, though he didn't quite sound as serene as he did when they started. "Gonna cum for me soon?"

Though her mouth was dropped open in a gape, no words came out. She only managed to nod, hair fluttering against the wood grain of the table. If he just touched her a little more, ground his hips into hers harder, he was going to make her cum around him before she had a chance to even thread together a coherent thought. From the second he fit his hand between her legs and teased her all the while, she was gone for him, her body ready for just the right moment before unraveling the tight spool of ribbon growing in her tummy.

"Need more f-from me, first?" he gritted out from a ticked jaw, (Y/N) able to imagine the hard line of his jaw just from memory as she couldn't manage to peek her eyes open in that moment.

Back arched as he flicked his finger over her pointed nipple, (Y/N) found her voice in a breathy croon, "Pl-Please, touch me, Harry."

She half expected him to keep up his unrelenting game, force her into telling him exactly where she wanted him to touch and how. But, when he instead peeled away his hand that had still been on her hip to keep her steady and placed it between their bodies, she could have cried at the instant satisfaction that followed as he smeared the pad of his thumb over her clit.

The vase filled with flowers beside her and the nearly empty wine glasses on the table rattled around her as she keened into the touch, her hips bucking up to meet his hand and subsequently knock into his rocking motions of his own.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," she bubbled off, the grated getting lost in her breathless murmurs but she couldn't help herself as they fell from her mouth.

Harry didn't say anything, only driving his hips that much harder into her. His hand on her breast drifted from the gentle kneading he was giving to the flesh, traveling up the expanse of her collarbones until he found the column of her throat. Her pulse kicked up at the feel of his hand inching to wrap around the delicate curve. If he did what she was hoping, she had no chance; she was going to have no hope before she melted into a complete puddle and came for him before she had a moment to catch her breath.

His thumb never ceased the circles he traced around her clit, following the tempo of his thrusts, as the hand on her neck turned stern. Long fingers wrapped around the curve of her throat, squeezing just enough that (Y/N) felt the pattern of her ragged breathing change to accommodate the new pressure. He choked her with a tender hand, finding the perfect grip that she'd come to love that made her head just a little too dizzy to think, putting her completely in the realm of his touch with no distractions.

She heard static in her ears as she laid there at his mercy, his firm hand on her neck to match the rough motions of his hips and rubbing of her clit. Her toes curled at the small of his back as she hooked her ankles together and held his body to her as best she could with a wavering grip. It was on instinct as she brought her hands up to wrap around the wrist of his that was choking her, fingertips denting into his forearm though she didn't make any move to stop him or pull him off her.

"S-So perfect, precious," he praised her, his thrusts going sloppy as she felt her own body beginning to unravel, "Taking it jus' like y'promised me, ar-aren't you? Such a good little wife for me—knew I married the right one."

If she had the wherewithal to fully compute his praising, (Y/N) knew she would have keened into his touch and urged him to finish for the sole reason of feeling him cum and seeing the look on his face that only she could bring, but there was nothing working in her head as she felt as if her body was little more than one large nerve-ending. Turning her head, she pressed her cheek into the cool wood cushioning her body, a moment of clarity entering her mind at the chill. Blinking her eyes open, she was granted a wavering view out the sliding glass doors that led to their backyard, the beach off in the distance. The sky was dark, the sun having fallen ages ago when (Y/N)'s brain had still been between her ears. The stars were streaks in the ink of the sky, reflecting off the ocean waves that were soundtracked with the music of her heartbeat rushing through her ears. What a pretty sight to see, she aimlessly thought, a sea view while her husband choked her with the same hand she held every morning as she walked him to his car before work.

Reaching with his forefinger to her jawline while his thumb pinched at the hinge, Harry turned her to face him, his palm still tight on her neck until he righted his grip. Shifting his hold, the leverage of his grip on her neck changed as she felt the telltale twitch of his cock inside her that told her he was just as close as she was. His gaze was clear as she matched it, the green especially bright though it was nothing more than a slim ring around his pupil.

"Look at me when I make y'cum," he grumbled to her, raspberry lips deeply colored and swollen.

Maybe it was his hand on her neck, or the feel of his cock making way between her snug walls, or the circles around her clit, but hearing Harry even say that he was going to make her cum, made her muddled brain decide that she had to do that now. She had to give him what he wanted now, as she didn't have any choice to stray from his demanding gaze and the unrelenting touch of him all around her.

Before she had a chance to tell him anything, warn him that she was about to finish for him, the beginnings of a dimple dented into his cheek as a smug curl edged out on the corners of his mouth. He knew.

"Gonna cum for me now, darling?" he prodded, voice low and deep though unsteady from his own impending pleasure.

"Uh-huh," she keened, only able to choke that out around his hand. She swallowed, throat bobbing under his grip. "H-Harder, plea-ease."

"Want me to choke y'harder, or fuck y'harder?" he pressed, Adam's apple bobbing before the tip of his tongue peeked out and ran along the full of his bottom lip.

"Ch-choke me harder," she told him, words a whisper.

Though the request was for something to make her unravel, Harry seemingly crumbled at the sound of her words, her small, breathy voice letting them linger between them. Nonetheless, he tightened his grip around her neck and kept working the rest of her body through the derailing of the pacing of his hips.

Everything came to a head at once as she tried to suck in a breath that was hindered by the grip of his hand. His cock fucking through her walls and nudging her tender spot, thick thumb pressing harshly against her clit, and the firm hand on her neck. Her brain went fuzzy while she fought to keep her eyes open and maintain the eye contact Harry wanted from her, though she felt the bow tied tight in her stomach coming undone in a mess of ribbon. Static filled her head despite the way Harry lessened his hold on her throat as soon as he realized she was cumming for him, her body following after in pinpricks of pleasure that dotted her limbs in sparks of clarity that matched the stars painting the sky outside their door.

"Harry," she moaned, the call hoarse and fragile as it rolled off her tongue. Her legs around his waist tugged him tight enough to her that he couldn't move from where he had bottomed out inside her.

Though he stilled his hips and his hand was nothing more that a steadying warmth at the hollow of her throat, he still worked the bud of her clit in soft circles through her orgasm. He was her safe place to land as she came down with a flutter of her eyes falling closed and chest heaving with the breaths she'd been fighting to suck in since she found herself seated on this table.

His hand on her neck trailed up to cradle her cheek in a tender hold, thumb petting along the height of her cheekbone. He waited for her descent back down to earth with him, only moving his hips in soft rocks that he couldn't help but make when the cradle of her legs around his waist loosened.

"Y'alright, precious?" he asked her once she found the energy to blink her eyes open.

Despite how tender and gentle he was being with his wife, (Y/N) watched as his nose flared with heaving breaths and his hair was pasted to his temples with the help of the sweat that also covered his body. The waves of curls on the top of his head were a mess, the gel he'd left the house with nonexistent in the heat of the room. His lips were swollen from their rounds of kissing as well as the blunt ends of his teeth digging into the pillows. He still needed to cum, and he was close to it if the set of his jaw was anything to go by.

"Y-Yes, but—" she stuttered, dropping her hands from around his forearm only to tug her ruffled skirt out of Harry's way, "It-It's your turn now, Harry."

A muscles in his jaw jumped, the hinge tightening at the sound of her words. "Is it, now?" he asked her with the lids of his eyes dropping low over his gaze, "Want to see me cum for you?"

Before she could thread together any kind of response, her head was nodding on instinct, frantic jerks. "Please, let me watch you cum, H."

A murmured curse left his mouth as his brows came into a pinch above his eyes, his eyelids winning out as they fell closed as he let out a deep breath. She watched as the white tips of his teeth peeked out and sunk into his bottom lip just as he gaze one more lingering pet of his thumb over her cheekbone before pulling away. He stood tall over her, chest bare with his pants undone just enough to pull his cock out. (Y/N)'s eyes never strayed as he slowly pulled out of her, her walls clenching around nothing as she adjusted without him, a whine caught in her throat.

Craning her neck, she was allowed a short view as he wrapped his fist around his cock, his hand having been covered in her slick from petting over her clit. Wet sounds filtered through the space as he stroked his cock in a pace that rivaled the harsh thrusts he delivered to his wife. Harry's face was contorted in a kind pleasure she felt lucky to see without lust too thick to breathe through addled her brain, and eyes clear enough to document every crease and curve to his features.

"Gonna cum on your pussy, darling. Is that alright?" he asked her, his explanation floating on a short breath between them though he never drew his gaze away from the sensitive folds between her legs.

A jerky nod acted as (Y/N)'s answer, the movement almost as frantic as Harry's hand over his cock. She watched as his prick twitched in his hand, the muscles of Harry's stomach tight and pronounced under the warm lighting. All it took was a swipe of his thumb over his weeping head before a rumbling groan built in his chest and streaks of cum spurted from his cock. The warmth landed in ropes (Y/N) couldn't see but felt as they painted over her intimacy, mixing with the slick that coated her slit. Harry threw his head back and let out a call of her name towards the ceiling as his chest heaved, the skin tinted a flushed pink. He came in thick spurts, his hand fisted over his prick helping to work out each rope until nothing was left but short drips that fell to the floor and his cock was too sensitive to touch.

Harry's body get languid as he came down, riding that wave until it brought him back to shore, sun-kissed and relaxed. Rolling his neck, he looked to (Y/N) with a canted head and tender smile that matched the way his eyes traced over her form.

"C'mere, precious," he murmured, reaching towards her hands that were stiffly curled into her dress.

(Y/N) didn't even think before she gave him her hands, uncaring of their shared cum that covered his palms. She was sure they were going to shower together after this, anyway. She sat up, her dress falling to cover to her knees with the hem dipping into the mess between her legs, though she didn't pay it any mind. All she cared about then was the way Harry dipped his head down to match his lips to hers as soon as he was given the opportunity.

Nothing was frantic about the contact, only soothing presses of their lips. A quiet reminder that he liked being rough with her only because of these tender moments they shared afterwards. He soothed her self-bitten lips and threaded their fingers together in a grip that felt like a feather compared to the way he had held her steady as he fucked into her only moments earlier. (Y/N) preened at the feel of him and all of his careful energy around her, feeling just as loved as she did with his hand around her neck.

Harry trailed his kisses down from her mouth and down the line of her neck until he found the slightly reddened skin that detailed just where his hand had been prior. He planted a garden of kisses that followed the line of each of his fingers and the span of his palm in gentle presses.

"I know y'asked me to, but I didn't choke y'too hard, did I?" he asked though his words melted into her skin. He didn't bother to pull away from her neck before he spoke, only muttering between the dragging kisses he granted to the delicate skin.

"No, no," (Y/N) rushed, shaking her head before she squeezed his hands in her own, "I liked it, H. I promise. I might have to use a little makeup tomorrow in case anything makes a mark, but I promise I really liked it. Thank you for doing that for me."

His smile could be felt against her neck, a gentle curve. "I love you, darling."

Unlacing her fingers from between his, she brought them up to cradle his cheeks as she pulled him up to face her. "I love you, too, H. There's no one I'd rather have come home to me."

Affection gleamed in the green of his eyes before they were shuttered as he pressed a lingering kiss to her mouth.

(Y/N) indulged in the contact for only a moment before something tickled at her senses. Her brows furrowed as she tried to pinpoint the niggling at the back of her mind that was triggered with the smell of... caramel? No, no, this was much deeper than that. It almost smelled like something was burning—or burning more, anyway.

As soon as the realization hit her, (Y/N) went stock still where she sat at the table.

Harry pulled away with concern painted over his gaze though (Y/N) only looked over his shoulder. She struggled then to somehow fix the top of her dress while scrambling to hop off the counter.

Harry stayed a steady wall between her and the rest of the house as she rushed, hands on her hips and face forcing into her field of view so she had to look at him. "Precious, what's wrong? Are—"

"Harry, the pie! I left it in the oven!"

(Y/N) couldn't find it in her to be even a little annoyed at the sound of her husband's laughter that then filled the house. She loved the melody almost as much as she loved him, even if it was at the expense of their dessert.

With the sound echoing though her ears as she slipped on a pair of oven mitts and extracted the bubbling black, burnt confection, (Y/N) decided that she'd burn a hundred more of them if his laughter was her reward.

—————

this idea ofc was super inspired by the dwd trailer ofc ofc but then when hsh came out and The Line in keep driving happened I put it all together!! thank u sm for reading and sorry for any mistakes!! please please if you have any ideas or requests people sen them in!!

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idyllcy · 4 months

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for all time/lovebrush chronicles boys as secret dating

word count: 757

summary: secret dating famous! lovebrush boys... how is it revealed?

Ai Yin / Ayn - World-Renowned Gamer

Ayn's heart races in his chest as he takes the trophy in his arms, cheeks flushed as he stares down into the crowd, eyes locking with yours as he hands off the trophy, hopping down the stage to hug you, his face buried in your chest as you jump in your skin, unsure as to how to respond. He had been the one who wanted to keep your relationship secret but not private, so you— "Just hug me." He grumbles, giving you a squeeze as you relent to it, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head as he lifts you into his arms. A female fan screams in the background, and another one yells in betrayal as Ayn presses a kiss to your lips with a soft grumble. Safe to say the tabloids went insane that night. (And Ayn went through your weibo to block every single rude comment)

Lu Chen / Alkaid - Well-Loved Photographer

"Hey beloved, can the magazine publish this?" Alkaid points at the photos with you in it, your lips sparkling in the photo for his interview, marks all over his chest, lipstick marks visibly made by your lips, and you nod, handing him a bowl of grapes. "Yeah. My face isn't in it, right?" "No." Alkaid nods. "We took the photos like that on purpose." You look at the photo, nodding. "Looks fine." "Really?" "Really." You nod. "I don't mind that much. Your fans aren't... terrifying." You pause. "Not as scary as Lars', at the very least." (Alkaid finds that you're right. His fans send him nothing but blessings)

Luo Xia / Lars - Top-Notch Celebrity

"Everyone call someone. The first person whose contact picks up can skip this next segment." Lars grins, clicking on your contact as everyone else does too. His phone rings once before you pick up. "Hi babe." Lars grins, shaking his phone at the camera as everyone screams. "BABE?!" The line is silent for a minute before your voice speaks up. "Did you just put me on speaker on one of your shows?" "I just needed you to pick up. I miss you." "I miss you too, but can you please have the editors cut out my voice during editing..." "Will do, babe." (The editors leave out your voice, but they definitely don't leave out the part Lars calls you babe)

Si Lan / Clarence - On the Rise Actor

"So, Clarence." The host coughs. "We received that you completely improvised your most popular scene in the whole movie... was there something that inspired it?" Your manager had warned you not to date as a rising actor, but it really wasn't your fault if your significant other was the crazy one. Clarence looks over at you, pursing his lips and pretending to think. "Perhaps I just wanted to." You reach over to smack him, clicking your tongue in disdain. "I bet you just wanted more tongue action." "With you? Surely." Clarence doesn't think, his media training going out his head as both you and the host are stunned, and the two of you make headlines, Clarence's casual words and pink ears accompanied by your shocked face. (Two weeks later, the two of you make it official on social media— much to his manager's annoyance)

Ye Xuan / Cael - The Nation's Model

Cael typically leaves out his wedding ring in shoots, the silver clashing too much with his outfits, but he finds that it doesn't matter this shoot, your skin pressed to his as you shoot the perfume ad, a ring that could easily be mistaken as a prop— had it not been for the fact that he was known for wearing it off of work. You arch your back slightly more, chest pressed to his, and Cael wraps an arm around you, hand on your shoulder as his ring glistens under the light, your matching one pressed to the glass of the bottle in your hand. In the back, one of the interns mumble about how great of a chemistry the two of you have. The photographer gives the two of you a thumbs up, and you relax, Cael's arm snaking down your chest and giving your skin a small pinch as he stands up. "You alright?" He leans down, resting his forehead on yours. "Yeah." You mumble. "Someone's going to send the paparazzi something again." "Let them." Cael presses his lips to your forehead. "It's about time anyway." (Cael beats the paparazzi, photo of your back at the shoot uploaded onto his instagram before the media can expose him.)

#ye xuan x reader #si lan x reader #clarence x reader #Luo xia x reader #lars x reader #lu chen x reader #alkaid x reader #ai yin x reader #ayn x reader #lovebrush chronicles x reader #reader insert #lovebrush chronicles #for all time x reader #for all time

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narislvr · 5 months

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Thinking about a 27dresses!au with reporter!ellie x bridesmaid!reader.

"What was the theme? Humiliation?"

ᝰ.ᐟ Despite being the top writer for the celebrity marriages portion of the magazine she works for, Ellie was far from a believer in the concept of marriage or love in general.

That's why she finds you so interesting. You who was a bridesmaid for two weddings at once, running back and forth from the two receptions and thinking that no one would notice, but she did. Really, she didn't get why you would go to great lengths for weddings that weren't even yours. In her point of view it was just... stupid, and yet somehow, endearing.

Considering she had a deadline to uphear to, (and not because she had any sort of 'love at first sight' feelings) she strikes up a conversation with you, playful banter, and her flirty charm, as she decides to base her next piece about the pretentious yet charming bridesmaid she just so happened to encounter.

── TLDR: I just want to write the dresses scene with Ellie realizes she might be falling for the hopless romantic who is her complete opposite as she photographs each and every one of the 27 dresses on you and listens to the story behind them all. ♡ (pls let me know if this sounds interesting. I can't stop thinking about this)

#ellie williams au #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams tlou #tlou ellie #romcom au #27 dresses #ellie x reader #yall i love romcoms sm

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slaymitchabernathy · 1 month

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Society Smiles

| this story was inspired by the song 'Good Luck Babe!' by Chappell Roan |

| “when you wake up next to him in the middle of the night, with your head in your hands, you’re nothing more than his wife” |

"The most attractive thing about a woman is her smile."

Those words have been engrained into Soarynn's mind since she heard them one day at school. One of her classmates had asked their male Professor what he deemed the most attractive quality of a woman. The room had filled with snickers as everyone prepared themselves for a somewhat sexist answer. He'd chuckled and paced the front of the room for a moment before coming to a conclusion and uttering those ten words that changed Soarynn's entire perspective.

She remembered looking over her shoulder at Coriolanus Snow who sat in the back of the classroom with his friends. He was slouched in his chair, his legs spread wide as he leaned back. He'd given her a smirk and she'd felt butterflies in her stomach.

Since she was sixteen all Soarynn had thought about was getting married. Some girls didn't. Some girls had large ambitions and wanted to be doctors or politicians, to really change the world.

But not Soarynn.

Her father always supported her dreams, he was pleased to find that his high society daughter had taken a liking to their customs that some deemed "old fashioned." She attended cotillion classes, and learned how to be the perfect upper-class wife, the society darling.

Eyes bright, chins up, smiles on.

Soarynn was quite possibly the most well-mannered girl under the age of twenty-five in the entire Capitol. She laughed at every joke, smiled for every photograph, dressed effortlessly for every occasion, and above all, she knew her place. She never strived to be an overachiever or to be neck and neck with her male classmates.

So it was no surprise when Coriolanus Snow chose her to be his wife.

They began their relationship after graduating from the Academy. That summer before University was the time when Soarynn got properly acquainted with the personality of Coriolanus Snow. She found out exactly how he liked his coffee, how he liked to be addressed, greeted, treated and, above all, respected.

He expected perfection from her in every way. Neither of them could afford to falter, not when they were at the top. They attended galas and banquets together and he proudly showed her off. Coriolanus became a constant source of stability for Soarynn. If she ever had any doubts about how to act, he was quick to correct them.

He was quick to mold her.

Sometimes she wondered what her life would be like if she chose to go in the other direction if she craved more independence. She didn't linger long with those thoughts though, she couldn't afford to, not when there was a husband to make happy and people to please.

Coriolanus proposed a month after they graduated from University. Their wedding had been a high society wedding with all the bells and whistles. Soarynn had been positively glowing at all the praise their wedding received. Several news outlets commented on their wedding and it only fed both of their egos.

'Coriolanus Snow swoops up the Perfect Bride' 'Soarynn Snow was the Picture Perfect Bride' 'The Perfect Example of Capitol Wealth' 'Snow Lands on Top as Coriolanus Snow secures the Perfect Wife'

That type of praise meant everything to Soarynn. She'd clipped out the headlines from the newspapers to frame in their penthouse. If society deemed her perfect then she had to be perfect, right?

Soarynn felt herself questioning that way of thinking as she slipped on her dress for tonight's party. The Heavensbees were throwing an extravagant party to celebrate another year of the Hunger Games so the Snows had of course been invited. Coriolanus was good friends with Hilarius Heavensbee which meant they were always guaranteed an invitation.

Appearances mattered at things like these events so Soarynn had spent the entire day preparing herself to be the perfect society wife she was always meant to be. Her soft blonde hair was perfectly styled, not a hair out of place thanks to her favorite hair stylist. Some might see her getting her hair professionally done once a month as an extravagant expense, one that was not required. But Coriolanus had certain standards that Soarynn had to live up to and he was more than happy to pay for all her beauty treatments as long as he was the one to reap their benefits.

Soarynn got her nails and hair done monthly, not to mention the clothes she had custom-made for her and all the skin treatments she did as well. She was perfect.

Once she sat down in front of her vanity, she carefully applied a bit more powder to her face as the finishing touch for her makeup, not wanting to look like she was trying too hard. Because she wasn't, obviously.

Coriolanus walked in and tore all her pestering thoughts of out her mind the second she laid eyes on her husband. He was entirely too handsome for his own good and he knew it too. He was charming, sophisticated, hard-working, and above all, he was a Snow.

Being a Snow came with certain privileges that not everyone was given. It elevated your status almost to the one that the President possessed. Soarynn had marveled at how differently she was treated once he slipped that wedding ring on her finger. Coriolanus was used to this type of treatment by now but thought it was adorable how she'd reacted at first.

Soarynn was more than used to her new status by now and always expected to be treated with the utmost respect.

He walks over to his side of the closet, pulling open the drawer that holds all of his neckties. Most men in the Capitol are limited to a certain wardrobe. A nice suit, black leather shoes, and a white button-up to go underneath. But Coriolanus managed to spice such a simple formula up with things like neckties and cufflinks and set off quite the trend amongst the elite men.

“What earrings are you wearing tonight darling?”

Soarynn hears him but doesn’t quite register his question as her thoughts begin to creep back into her mind. Why did they even go to these things? Who cared about things like flaunting one’s wealth?

“Darling?”

Soarynn looks up to find Coriolanus standing right in front of her, a concerned look on his face. “Oh. Um, my earrings? I’m not quite sure yet,” she says, turning to face her vanity mirror again, “is there a certain pair you’d like me to wear?”

Soarynn knew her husband all too well to know that he loved getting to decide what she wore. And it helped that he had relatively good fashion sense. “I was thinking…these,” he says, pulling out a red velvet box from his pocket. Soarynn eyes the box through the mirror and her heart beats a bit faster that premice of a gift. When they were dating Coriolanus showered her with gifts and that’s continued throughout their relationship and into their marriage.

Sometimes it was a new handbag, other times it was a shopping spree. Soarynn’s favorite gift had to be her darling cat, Petunia, who Coriolanus claimed looked just like her when he was choosing which kitten to take home. Petunia had been a gift for their one year wedding anniversary and Soarynn adored the cat with all her heart.

“I assume these earrings will match your cufflinks,” Soarynn says playfully, turning and gently taking the box from his large hand, into her small and dainty one. Coriolanus chuckles and scratches the back of his neck, “You know me too well.” She certainly did. Every moment, every breath, every smile and laugh was perfectly curated to please her husband and Soarynn’s husband was always pleased.

Soarynn smiles up at him before opening the box and she lets out a soft gasp. The earrings are beautiful. It looks as if a gold wire has been fashioned around itself over and over again until it was large enough to hold the large-looking pearl that hangs from the gold wiring. It’s stunning, really.

Soarynn runs her fingers over the jewelry, “Oh, it’s beautiful, absolutely beautiful.”

Coriolanus places his hand on the top of her head, smoothing her hair down, “Well I’ve been more than pleased with you lately, and good behavior ought to be rewarded where I’m concerned.” The comment isn’t lost on Soarynn, that she’s been well-behaved. He could’ve said that it was a token of his affection or that he simply thought of her when he saw the earrings but he didn’t.

He bought them because she was well-behaved.

And she knew that her husband loved her. He said it at the altar, in front of friends and family, and he said it when they were alone. But did he mean it? Did she mean it when she said it to him? Perhaps they were more in love with the ideas of each other rather than the actual person.

Still, she can't afford to linger in her pessimistic thoughts right now, not when they have somewhere to be. Coriolanus hates being late.

꧁ ꧂

"I honestly don't know what he expects," Livia says with a sigh, her red-colored lips turned down in a slight frown, "it's not like I don't want children. And yet Urban seems adamant on placing all the blame onto me." Soarynn nods as she listens to one of her good friends speak about her problems with getting pregnant. Livia Cardew married Ubran Canville two months before Soarynn married Coriolanus and they've been trying for a baby for quite some time.

Soarynn knows that Coriolanus wants children, expects children. But not right now. He'd even shut her down when she had asked about removing her birth control implant before their wedding day. "I can't afford any unwanted surprises," he had told her. Still, she'd love to have a child of her own someday and Livia does as well. "It's not your fault Liv," Soarynn says softly, "he's simply upset. You both are."

Her eyes travel along Heavensbee Hall until they settle on her husband, standing tall among the other Capitol elite men. It seems he's already been watching her because her blue-gray eyes meet his piercing blue ones for a moment before he looks back at Festus Creed, a close friend and associate of his.

"Well it's not about him, now is it?" Livia snaps, the alcohol making her tongue all too loose. Soarynn only drank socially and she made sure to keep a watchful eye on the level of her consumption through the night. She wouldn't want to embarrass her husband with a drunken scene.

Soarynn sighs and shakes her head, "No, I suppose it isn't about him. But do be patient, these things take time you know." Livia hummed but didn't seem too convinced, thankfully, the announcement was made that dinner was ready to be served. Soarynn was quick to find Coriolanus who placed a hand on the small of her back as they found their seats and then pulled out her chair for her. "Thank you," she says sweetly, watching as he takes his own seat.

He nods, "Of course darling. And have I told you how wonderful your hair looks tonight?" Soarynn is practically glowing from his words of praise. She'd gotten her hair done three days ago and it looked perfect. It was just the right length, color, and shine for a Capitol lady like her. "No, but you do seem keen on flattering me tonight," she teases, placing a hand on his knee. Coriolanus shoots her a grin before their attention is brought to Hilarius, their gracious host who is standing up to make a toast.

"Family and friends," he says, raising his glass, "tonight serves as another reminder of who we are. The best of Panem." A grumble of agreement passes through the room, everyone in this room is here for a reason. Because they're the elite, on top. "There's no other way I would want to celebrate another successful year of the Hunger Games than with the best company Panem can provide. To the Hunger Games." Soarynn repeats the phrase as she lifts her own glass up although the sentiment is slightly lost on her. She doesn't really care for the Games the way that others do.

Dinner is brought out in several courses and Soarynn remains ever delightful and polite whilst talking to those around her. "Did you see the girl Tribute from District Three?" Clemensia asks Soarynn as she cuts into her food. Soarynn shakes her head, "I don't believe I caught a good glimpse of her. Why? Was she offputting?" Most children from the Districts came to the Capitol covered in dirt and ridden with diseases. That's why they were kept in the money pen at the zoo.

Clemensia scoffs and puts down her fork and knife before she leans towards Soarynn from across the table, "Worse than that. She was actually somewhat attractive! If she was given the proper styling then she could've passed for a middle-class Capitol citizen." Soarynn furrows her eyebrows at that claim, and it's a rather bold claim in her opinion. Soarynn clears her throat, "Well, I'll have to watch back and see what she looked like."

The grin on Festus Creed's face lets Soarynn know that she's in for a rather vulgar set of words about this Tribute. "She made me want to hop into the arena for a few minutes," he jokes, pulling some laughs from the men around them. Including Coriolanus. Soarynn eyes him but says nothing, it's not the right place or time. "She was rather attractive," Coriolanus admits before taking a sip of his wine, "but looking like a heap of bones certainly wasn't helping her chances."

While Soarynn won't say anything, she can always count on Livia to speak up and she does without fail. "You do realize that you're talking about a child right? And one from the Districts no less." Festus rolls his eyes and shoots Urban a look, "Perhaps you aren't used to the way men talk when women aren't present Livia, but this is skimming the surface of the topics we discuss when we're alone." Soarynn frowns and sets down her cutlery, no longer hungry.

Does Coriolanus talk about her this way? Or other women for that matter?

She's done everything right to keep him interested, to keep him happy. Is it not enough?

꧁ ꧂

"You always know how to make my good nights a great night darling," Coriolanus grunts as he thrusts into her again. Soarynn gasps and her back arches off their bed, her nails digging into his shoulders, "Thank you," she whispers. He'd been in a great mood after the party, probably because he spent the majority of it talking about the attractive qualities of other women. Soarynn had smiled through the entire ordeal, her professor's words ringing through her head, "The most attractive thing about a woman is her smile."

She held onto those words like a lifeline tonight, desperately attempting to stay above the water. While the men openly discussed women's bodies, how they wanted them to look, to act, Soarynn was the quiet and obedient wife her husband always expected her to be. She was perfect even though it killed her inside.

She can feel his thrusts beginning to grow more erratic and she knows he's close, "Fuck," he grits out, his hands squeezing her hips tighter than before, "your cunt does it for me every time Soarynn." Soarynn lets out a whimper and it's not from pleasure as he husband finishes inside of her. Normally, she loves it when they have sex, when he finishes inside of her and says all sorts of things to her in the heat of the moment. But not tonight.

Coriolanus pants above her before pressing a kiss to her forehead, "Let me finish you off." Soarynn is quick to shake her head and plaster on another smile, "It's alright," she tells him, "I think I'd rather just wash off and go to bed." Coriolanus has always been a good lover in the bedroom, making sure that she always reached her peak as well but she's not in the mood to be touched and manipulated tonight by his fingers or his cock.

He frowns and gently cups her face in his hand, "Is everything alright? Did I hurt you?" Soarynn sighs and shakes her head again, "No, everything was perfect as always. I'm just a bit tired is all." That seems to be enough to convince him because he nods and helps her into the bathroom where they shower together, washing the day off of them. "Livia certainly has a mouth on her," Coriolanus mumbles as he wraps his arms around Soarynn, resting his head on her shoulder. Soarynn hums and watches the water wash down the drain, "She's just more outspoken than other women." She's dealt with enough beratement of women tonight and she won't see one of her good friends fall victim to it as well.

His hands splay out across her stomach, "Makes me glad you know how to behave. I bet Urban set her straight the second they got into the car. I can't imagine having to deal with that behavior on a daily basis." Soarynn pales at the words he so carelessly uses when talking about another human being. Rarely does Soarynn ever get snippy or bratty with Coriolanus, and when she does he's quick to put her back in her place. "Well it's a good thing we get along so well," Soarynn says softly, her stomach now in knots. Coriolanus presses a kiss to her neck, "My thoughts exactly darling."

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn dreams that she's a Tribute in the arena.

It's down to her and that girl from District Three that the men wouldn't stop talking about. Clemensia was right, she's quite pretty all things considered. Both girls are battered and bruised and Soarynn can hear the crowd screaming out for them to finish each other off. She looks up at the crowd and spots Coriolanus along with several of their friends, all their gazes scrutinizing as they look down at her and her current state. Her bottom lip quivers as she realizes that she's been reduced to the likes of a District citizen and all for their entertainment.

"Well," the girl calls out, a spear in her hand, covered in blood, "it's just you and me then." Soarynn frowns and looks back up at Coriolanus. Why isn't he helping her?

The girl notices him in the crowd as well and she laughs. She laughs so hard that she begins to cough up blood, "He...he doesn't care about you," she wheezes. Soarynn shakes her head, her fingers tightening around her own bloody spear, "You're lying. He's my husband." The girl tilts her head and a cruel smile spreads across her dirty face, "Then why are you in here and not up there with him?"

Soarynn feels her mouth drying as she searches for an answer and the girl nods, "See? You're just entertainment for him, something to show off and fuck whenever he's bored." Soarynn shakes her head fervently, "No I'm not. He loves me." The crowd grows louder and louder, eager for bloodshed. "Get on with it!" Someone shouts, "Prove your worth you dirty girl!" Soarynn doesn't know who they're talking to but it spurs her into action and she takes off running towards the girl. Their spears clash against each other as they fight to the death. Soarynn shoves her spear harder and throws the girl off balance.

"KILL HER!" The crowd screams.

Soarynn pulls her spear back and runs it through the girl's abdomen, watching her fall to her knees before she falls over. Soarynn pants as she looks up at the crowd, for Coriolanus and his nod of approval but instead finds him laughing, mocking her. "The winner of the Hunger Games, Coriolanus Snow's wife," the announcer's voice booms throughout the arena as the crowd cheers.

Soarynn falls to her knees, was that all she was? His wife? She just won the Hunger Games and yet Coriolanus was given more credit than she was. The girl coughs up some more blood as the life slowly fades from her eyes, "I told you so," she whispers before she takes her last breath.

꧁ ꧂

Soarynn wakes up with a gasp, clutching the sheets as she looks around the dark bedroom. Coriolanus is sound asleep next to her, not a care in the world. Soarynn feels sick like she might throw up. She hasn't had a dream like that ever in her life but she feels horrible. It felt so real.

She thinks about waking up Coriolanus, asking for words of comfort and kisses and hugs but she decides against it. He'd only tell her what she wants to hear before rolling over and going back to sleep.

A single tear falls down Soarynn's face as reality begins to hit her. Whether in the Capitol or the arena, she's only of value as long as she belongs to him. As long as she's his wife.

With her head in her hands, she's nothing more than his wife.

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